Chapter Text
269 AC
Edwyna was sitting with Lyarra in the nursery the day her mother gave birth to her last sibling.
Lyanna was sitting on the thick rug before her, playing as she always did with much energy and imagination. At the moment it seemed she was acting a knight, trotting around on an imaginary horse and causing Kenna to hide small smiles behind a wrinkled hand.
Edwyna found that if she wished to keep her mind off things she’d rather avoid thinking of, it was always a good idea to visit her sister. One had no chance when with her to think on other things, lest they wish for a hearty punch from Lyanna to gain their attention.
She would much rather focus on the pleasant moments in time, such as finding out about the impending birth of her new little brother or sister, than think on the things which lingered in the dark spaces of her mind. And she certainly had much she didn’t wish to think on, even months after the…incident.
Every day since she’d recovered and left the sickbed she’d been chained to, her mother had sought to pull her to the godswood. And every day without fail, when the time came around near sunset for her mother to appear and ask for her to visit the Weirwood with her, Edwyna would refuse.
She dreaded it. She dreaded the look of utter disappointment on her mother's face, the shame it made her feel for avoiding something her mother felt so strongly about. And yet, still she could not bring herself to return to that place she so vividly feared.
Every day her mother appeared before her with a question on her lips…and everyday she felt a bloodcurdling fear at the notion of ever answering ‘yes.’
She wished now that she’d never read that letter that Brandon had found that day months ago, when she’d only just woken and still been a bed. Maybe then she never would have told her mother everything…and she wouldn’t have her mother looking at her like she was the answer to all her hopes and dreams.
—
“Wynnie!”
Edwyna smiles for the first time since she’d woken at the sight of her brother in the doorway. He rushes with the speed of a locomotive—a what?—and heads straight for her bedside.
Mother is not with him, she bade her goodbye with great regret and reluctance to get some rest after sitting at her side in her sickness for weeks. However, Kenna follows dutifully behind him holding Lyanna. Ned shuffles by her side looking somber and quiet as usual, but there is a twitchiness to him that belays a want to follow in Brandon’s footsteps.
"Brandon!” Edwyna cries as she is engulfed in her brothers excited arms. The cry is both in welcome and alarm as the air is pressed from her chest in one fell swoop. As quickly as the hug begins it is interrupted by hacking coughs as she tries to regain her breath.
Brandon swiftly backs off in alarm, and Kenna sets Lyanna down to rush over and prop her up into a seated position.
"Thank you,” She rasps to Kenna, holding her hand out once more for her brother hopefully, “I’m alright now.”
Although Brandon gladly takes her hand and smiles in relief, Kenna looks less convinced. Her stern face sets into a frown as she makes eye contact with Edwyna, but the girl ignores her in favor of focusing on her brother’s steady rambling.
“It took you long enough to wake up! It was so boring without you around—although I guess it was kinda fun playing Hide-the-Treasure with Ned…still it’ll be even better now that you’re up.” Brandon was practically bouncing where he stood, quickly letting go of her hand in his excitement and wild gesticulations. “We can play all sorts of things again, like Come-Into-My-Castle or Mother May I or—”
Edwyna laughed softly, though her every inhale told her she wouldn’t be doing anything but watching from the sidelines for some time. She ignored it though, and focused on the joy on her brothers bright face, on the tiny hopeful smile on Ned’s behind him, on Kenna who hid her smile as she was set Lyanna on the bed beside her.
“—and, oh! Wynnie, me and Ned came up with a new one too! We call it ‘Find the Dragon.’” Brandon said with a smile when Ned prompted him with a nudge, “It’s where we pretend the dragon in Winterfells crypt woke up and we have to find him, and one of us is the dragon and the other is the Lord of Winterfell who sets out to find and tame it, and I’m really good at being the dragon because Ned can never catch me!”
“That’s because you move whenever I get close!” Ned says with a scowl, “That’s against the rules.”
“We made the game, the rules can be whatever we want.” Brandon says with a role of his eyes.
“I’d never think you’d be good at hiding,” Edwyna giggles, “You’ve always been the type to hide behind the drapery with you’re toes hanging out.”
Brandon looks indignant at that, before he gets a familiar mischievous look in his eyes.
“Being a dragon is different though—dragons can fly after all!” And with a great cry Brandon then throws himself up and over the bed, startling Edwyna and little Lyanna into laughing and giving Kenna a near heart attack.
“Honestly!” Kenna says with a huff as she tries to reach out and cuff him upside the head, but Brandon quickly ducks away and under the bed giggling wildly. “You’re sister bedridden and you jumping all about hiding under the furniture! Get out from under there at once, you rascal!”
Despite Kenna’s stern voice, Edwyna could see the smile tugging at her lips as Brandon made growling noises beneath the bed.
“You sound more like a wolf than a dragon to me.” Edwyna laughed and beside her Kenna raised her brows.
“I should hope so…” She muttered beneath her breath, low enough that Edwyna thought she wasn’t meant to hear. The dark tone of the murmur dimmed her smile a bit, but Lyanna’s bouncing and clapping brought it back up to full brightness.
“Wolf, wolf!” She cried in delight. Or perhaps she was saying ‘woof, woof?’ Edwyna couldn’t quite tell with her babyish lisp, but that made it all the more heart warming.
Suddenly the growly stopped, and Lyanna quieted in confusion.
“Oh no! has the great beast been vanquished?” Edwyna said with a laugh as she peered over the side of the bed. With a roar Brandon jumped from beneath the bed, nearly nocking heads with his sister and sending her tumbling backwards into Lyanna.
“Brandon!” Kenna said admonishingly as she picked Lyanna up quickly, getting her out of the way of as he climbed upon the bed.
As her brother settled beside her, she couldn’t help but notice the quick slight of hand he employed to slide something beneath her pillow. She didn’t let her eye linger though, should Kenna see and investigate. She was familiar enough with her brother’s ways to know it must be something he was sure she might take away, to hide it so.
"I can’t wait to try your new game, Brandon…” Edwyna finally said as things settled down, looking out the window on the far side of the room with a bit of melancholy. “Though perhaps we could do it inside…I think I’ve had enough of the cold.”
Brandon nodded, though he twisted his lips a bit in dissatisfaction, and Ned looked to the floor with a frown.
“I…I’m sorry.” Ned said quietly, peering up at her through his loose hair. “For…for getting us wet I mean…and leaving you all alone…”
Edwyna and her brother both looked over at their younger sibling in surprise, and even Kenna’s stern face was slack with shock.
“If I hadn’t gotten upset…if I hadn’t jumped on Brandon…” He continued on, voice trembling, “then…then you wouldn’t be…”
“Ned…” Edwyna interrupted softly before he could continue, not wishing to hear the ordeal rehashed once more. She was reluctant to speak of it…she just wanted to forget it ever happened really…but she also didn’t want her youngest brother to look so sad.
“Don’t be silly.” She said at last, not knowing quite how to comfort him. “It isn’t your fault—it’s no ones fault really, other than the man who…well, it’s his fault and that’s that. So I don’t want to hear anyone say otherwise, alright?”
There was silence for a moment as Ned sniffed a bit, but then Kenna spoke up.
“You’re sister has a right good head on her, little Ned.” She said with a sharp nod. Edwyna was surprised to find she met her eyes when she looked to her, and even more surprised to find something like pride in them.
“So you had better listen to her, or I’ll have to knock it into your head myself, hm?”
Face red and fidgeting, Ned nodded and Kenna gave a huff of satisfaction. When he looked up Edwyna smiled at him, and he smiled a little back, and then Brandon came over to ruffle his hair in an attempt to knock the solemn look of his face. It really only garnered him a childish pout, but it was better than nothing.
—
Sometime later, when Lyanna had grown restless enough and Ned seemed suitably cheered, it was decided that Kenna would take the two of them back to the nursery to ready themselves for bed. Although she tried, she was unsuccessful in bringing Brandon with her, as he had quite firmly attached himself to Edwyna’s bed post and refused to leave.
With a long suffering sigh Kenna eventually gave in and left him there with an extra guard stationed outside the door, leaving to find lady Stark and apprise her of her eldest child's stubbornness.
Finally, with the oaken door shut and the guards standing vigil outside it, Brandon sat up and eagerly reached beneath Edwyna’s pillow.
“Look!” He said with a smile. “I found it under the bed.”
With interest Edwyna saw that Brandon held a folded piece of paper in his hand. She reached out for it and he released it willingly, although he quickly peered over her shoulder to look at it.
“I didn’t have a chance to open it earlier. What is it?” He said eagerly, “Is it a secret treasure map? Oh! Do you think it will show us where the dragon is in the crypts?!”
“Honestly, there’s no dragon in Winterfell’s crypts! And if there ever was it would have to have been a very small one…how else would it even get down there?” With a roll of her eyes Edwyna pushed her overeager brother away and turned the paper over in her hands, realizing it was not a slip of paper but an envelope. A name written in looping script adorned the front, and on the back a broken wax seal flapped open.
“This is a letter…to Maester Walys.” She said with a frown, still unsure of what to think of the man. She fingered the broken seal of wax, but did not flip it open, and her brother shook her impatiently.
“Well what does it say then?”
“I don’t think we should be reading this…” She said instead, shaking her head.
“Since when has that ever stopped you.” He said with a frown, “You always read everything, even when Maester Walys forbid you to.”
“I do?” Edwyna whispered, making Brandon look at her strangely. She certainly remembered reading, yes, but was it really forbid by the Maester?
“I mean…yes, I know, it’s just that…this isn’t a book, Brandon, it’s someone’s personal letter.”
Brandon groaned and snapped the envelope from her hands before she could protest, pulling the folded paper from it with a flourish.
“Fine, Ned.” He said with a childish grin, “Then I’ll read it.”
Edwyna laughed, “Really? You?”
Brandon scowled at her doubt, and then with slow faltering words he began to read.
“Maester Walys, I th—ank thee for thy…core—respond—ants. Long has it bee—”
“Alright, alright…I’ll read it.” Edwyna said with a huff, impatiently taking the letter from him. She glared at his impish smile. “You do need to practice more though.”
She cleared her throat,
“Maester Walys,
I thank you for your correspondence, for long has it been since this old maester has received a raven that did not bare ill tidings. Your letter was of an interesting subject, but I must admit that it would do my heart well to speak of him once more, and so I will tell you what I remember.
As I’m sure you well know, there was a time when I was not Maester Aemon, but Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar Targaryen, once King of the Seven Kingdoms.”
Here Edwyna stopped in surprise, having not realized that there were any of the royal line stationed at the wall. Her brother’s elbow nudged her in the ribs and she continued.
“When my father died and those who would see me on the throne raised their heads, I had no choice but to remove myself to the wall, as already I had taken my vows as a Maester and I would not forsake them.
And when the time came to depart, I was thankful for the honor guard my brother sent with me, and among that guard was none other than the one whom you ask after. My brother of the Nights Watch, a man who did become the Night Commander, and who I called cousin—though in truth he was my great uncle. Brynden Rivers, or as most know him, Bloodraven.”
“Bloodraven?” Brandon said with an excited look on his face, “That’s who mother and father were speaking of wasn’t it? The one who—”
"Yes,” She interrupted, as she remembered that night what felt so long ago. She remembered why she hadn’t wanted to find out who the man was, remembered her father suggesting she be separated from her siblings but…even that memory felt strange to her, as if she were forgetting something.
She couldn’t help but connect the strange feeling with how she felt around Maester Walys—the man who she had no memory of forgetting.
“You asked for information on what sort of man he was, and so I shall describe him best I can.
Brynden, despite being a bastard of my grandfather Aegon V, had the Targaryen hair—perhaps even lighter still than most, as it was white as the snows beyond the wall. Many I have heard speak of the birth mark upon his face as that of a winged raven set in the color of blood, hence his startling misnomer. To my old eye, however, it has only ever been a misshapen inkblot—but the people see what they wish to see in such things.
He was not a formidable man at first glance, neither overly tall nor muscular, but rather gaunt. But his eyes could pierce any mans soul with a single look, and many a conscript found themselves cut to the quick by that stare—a stare that was indeed…
…red.” Edwyna finished quietly, thinking of her own red eyes—and the eyes of those around her, always set just to the side or above in avoidance of a direct stare. She swallowed thickly, a sliver of doubt settling in her breast without her consent.
“As for you're other inquiries, strange as they are, I can safely say that Brynden was never one to be found in…such places of pleasure. He was always rather focused in his duties, although I do know he had one long ago whom he loved. Beautiful of face and blonde of hair, with two different colored eyes. I know not what became of her, nor if they stayed true to one another after his departure in my honor guard. It is most likely she married another, for she was quite the beauty.
I hope that answers your questions Maester of Winterfell, and I thank you for giving me reason to speak once more on my cousin. I have missed him dearly since his disappearance beyond the wall, the Nights Watch is a colder place in his absence.
Signed,
Maester Aemon"
“Is that it?” Brandon asked taking the letter and turning it over, looking a bit disappointed. “What does it mean?”
“I…don’t know.” Edwyna said, a dozen thoughts and memories swirling in her head.
Her father, implying she and Brandon were illegitimate, her mother indignant and furious at the suggestion, the name Bloodraven tossed like an insult, red eyes…
“He…has eyes like mine.” She said without meaning to.
“So?” Brandon said with a scowl, “Plenty of people have eyes the same color. Me and Kenna have the same colored eyes!”
Edwyna huffed a laugh, and knew her brother just couldn't understand the implications of what they'd just read. But perhaps that was best, as she most certainly wished she didn’t—
“Brandon? What is that you have there?”
Like deers caught in a hunters crosshairs, the twins turned at once with wide eyes, where in the doorway their mother stood.
Too late Brandon tried to hide the letter in his hand beneath the pillow, cringing when their mothers eyes honed in on it, with a look of a wolf that had found it’s prey. Edwyna only sighed and resigned herself to her fate.
With quick strides Lady Lyarra was upon then in a blink of the eye, hand already reaching under the pillow. When she pulled the letter from it’s hiding place Edwyna was surprised to see no confusion on her face, but rather only surprise and perhaps a bit of…guilt?
“Where did you come upon this?” She finally said with sharp eyes on Brandon.
“It was under the bed…” Brandon said with a pout.
“And did you read it?”
“No.” He said, but one raised brow from his mother had him cracking. “Well, yes, but what’s it matter if we read it anyways? If he didn’t want us reading it he shouldn’t have left it lying about like that!”
The twins both kept their gazes down at the bedspread after his little confession, waiting for a stern reprimand from their mother for their nosiness. But the expected harsh words never came, and in their place only a sigh rested.
“Brandon, the hour is late…I trust that you can make it back to the nursery without causing more trouble?” She said with a weariness Edwyna was just noticing. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and the set of her shoulders was sloped—a far cry from their usual rigidness.
“But, I wanted to stay with—” Brandon protested, before stopping. Perhaps he too noticed their mothers exhaustion, for he pressed no further than his token protestation and slowly jumped down from the bed and made for the door.
As her mother pulled a chair up to sit beside the bed, Brandon stopped at the door and then, with a uncertainness that was unusual on his exuberant face, he turned once more to look at his sister.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Edwyna smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, Brandon…I think I’m done sleeping. I’ll be awake before you, pinky promise.”
And with a last shared smile she was left alone with her mother, who still held their confiscated letter in her bony hands. When had her mother gotten so thin?
Finally, when the silence had stretched what felt like hours but what was really likely moments, Edwyna could no longer hold herself back. What felt like a hundred thoughts swirled in her mind, but it was only one which made it’s way into the world.
“Are—are we really Starks?”
Her mother finally looked up from the letter in shock, eyes wide with horror.
“What?” She breathed, “What could possibly make you to ask such a thing?”
“…whispers of my infidelity with some Bloodraven descendent, some son of a whore in moles town that grew up and seduced me from your arms!”
“How dare you! How dare you even think that Edwyna is not your daughter! Get. Out!”
“But his eyes could pierce any mans soul with a single look, and many a conscript found themselves cut to the quick by that stare—a stare that was indeed…red.”
“Edwyna?” She heard her mother ask softly, hand upon her cheek, and it was then that she realized her heavy panicked breathing.
And then she could hold it no l longer.
“I was there.” She chocked out. “In your solar…I know father wants to send me away. I know he…he thinks…”
Her lips trembled, her young voice cracking, unable to finish the sentence. When she looked up, eyes stinging, she could see the dawning horror on her mothers blurry face.
“You were…there? How?” Lyarra started in bewilderment, before shaking her head, negating the question.
She reached across the bed to take Edwyna’s face into her hands, her eyes once again their usual fierceness, and it was almost enough to disguise the darkness beneath her eyes. It was a welcome sight, as Edwyna had not seen much of anything but sadness and weariness on her mothers face since waking.
“No matter how you came to be there—and truly how you managed to hide so well is beyond me—I do not wish to hear you ever ask those words again. Do you understand me?”
Slow tears dripped from Edwyna’s eyes as she looked down, and her mothers gentle cool fingers wiped them away softly. The comfort of it was soothing, but the gesture only served to further the flood of tears from the overcome little girl.
“That night…your father’s wish to send you away…was not entirely his own. They were brought on by cruel whispers in his ear by one whose council he perhaps values too well.” Lyarra said firmly. “I know you have no memory of Maester Walys—the specificity of which I find…curious—and so I will remind you that you should never trust the man. He is both ambitious and patient, and he lives behind masks so well made you can never tell which is the truth.”
“But…the letter—”
“The people are cruel in their rumors, jumping on such a small similarity…” She said glancing down once more. “Bloodraven was a man—some say a sorcerer with a thousand eyes and one—surrounded by mysticism and secrets, but still a man and likely long dead by now. A figure whose place at the wall has long been both respected and feared—and whose disappearance has only served to further his legend. People want that legend to continue…for it makes a better story than reality.”
“A…sorcerer?” Edwyna sniffled, a feeling of fear overcoming her. Immediately her mind turns to that dark place where she’d hidden her memories of that cold and foggy place.
Lyarra’s fingers dig almost painfully into the sides of Edwyna’s face, her mouth pressed tight and eyes gripping in their intensity.
“You are my daughter. Brandon is my son. You are Starks.” She whispered harshly. “You should never doubt that. Never.”
So much was the stress of all that had happened, all the questions, answers, the confusion and missing memories…and it was that simple statement that pushed it all over the edge. Edwyna’s hastily built wall, which had kept all the terrifying things at bay, tumbled down.
At once it all seemed to come out in a heaving, chest clenching mess of tears and gut wrenching sobs.
“Oh my clever girl…” Lyarra said as she pushed her way to sit on the bed beside her, doing as she often did when she was upset and pulling her into her lap. “Your father will come around…in truth, perhaps he already has. Perhaps this will be the turning point for better time.”
When the last Edwyna’s tears fell and her cries quieted, her mother pulled away to reach for a damp cloth to soothe her red and swollen face.
Still stroking her cheek with the cool cloth, Lyarra studied Edwyna’s face in ernest, thinking.
“There’s something else upon your mind…” She said with surety. She gave a slight smile at the shock Edwyna was sure shone on her face
“I’ve seen that look on your face too many times to not recognize it…” She said with a roll of her eyes when Edwyna looked at her suspiciously. Then, sadly, she continued, “It’s the look that say’s you have something to say, but are worried that people will think you strange for it.”
With a look that was quickly turning sour, Edwyna tried to pull away from her in retreat, but Lyarra held fast.
“I lied.” She said at last, so quietly Lyarra nearly missed her words. “About not remembering anything else…”
With wide eyes Lyarra asked equally quietly, “You remember something else from the attack?”
“No…” Her daughter said, to her confusion. “I remember something else…something…after.”
—
“Wynnie! You’re not paying attention!”
Startled out of her sullen thoughts, Edwyna gave a little cry at her sisters surprisingly hard punch to her arm.
“Sorry, Lya” Edwyna said, and giggled as she watched her enthusiastic ‘galloping’ start once again. But instead of playing her part as the princess in need of rescuing by the mighty
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
The words seemed to confuse Lyanna, but then a thoughtful look came upon her face. Edwyna couldn’t help but think on her own dreams for the future, of learning and reading…and of the dreams her mother, the Maester, and her father had for her…each so very different.
“A horse!” Lyanna pronounced with a serious nod.
“…oh?” Edwyna chocked out. Her muffled laughter only seemed to draw Lyanna’s quick temper though, so she cleared her throat quickly. “I don’t believe that’s how it works Lyanna. Ponies grow up to be horses…and you’ll grow up to be a woman.”
Lyanna huffed in annoyance. “Let Ned be a woman. I’m gonna be a horse!”
Edwyna could hold it no longer, and she burst out with laughter the sound raspy and short as it had been since she’d woken those months ago. Even Kenna could be heard snorting from the corner where she focused on her needlepoint.
“What’s this?” A voice said from the door. “You all seem to be in good spirits today.”
“Oh it’s nothing,” Edwyna said with a giggle as she turned to her mother, even as that dread from before curled in her stomach.
“Really?” Her mother said with an amused smile as Ned and Brandon peered around her swollen belly from the hallway. “Well, surely you must be quite bored having been stuck inside all day. Perhaps it would do you well to join us in the godswood Edwyna?”
And there it was.
“N-no thank you.” She said quietly, ignoring her mothers worried frown, the disappointment in her eyes. “It’s quite cold, and I’m afraid my chest has been a bit of a bother today…”
Kenna looked at her shrewdly, having heard no cough from her all day, but she said nothing. She knew by now this play they enacted every day, one that had Edwyna falling back on her ‘weak constitution’ that everyone was always so worried about.
Although it was true she had been much frailer than she had before her fall, she certainly wasn’t an invalid. She could easily take a walk outside, and she would love to…if they weren’t headed to the godswood.
“I see..” Her mother said sadly. “Well, it would certainly be best for you to stay inside then, for the sake of your healt—”
Suddenly her mother stumbled, a hand pressed to her large belly.
“Oh…” Lady Stark said breathlessly as she looked down. When Edwyna looked down she gasped at the sight of water dripping onto the floor.
“She’s peeing!” Brandon said in shock from behind her.
“She’s not peeing—her water broke!” Edwyna shouted, suddenly on her feet.
“How did you—” Kenna said looking at her strangely. But Edwyna had no time to spare for her usual questioning.
“She’s going into labor!”
—
Winter was near it’s end when Lady Starks fifth child was born, a beautiful baby boy black of hair and grey of eyes who seemed to have sucked his mothers coloring from her upon his birth. It was a dark, dreary morning that he was finally cleaned and put in her arms, and Lyarra laughed wearily upon seeing his eyes, as already they smiled at her. Grey faced and worryingly pale, she laughed once more at how easy Benjen lay in her arms, so different than her last child Lyanna. Every moment she had stayed swaddled she’d cried, and every moment she had lay free she’d squirmed, as if to make a break for some unreachable freedom.
“Where are you going, hmm?” Lady Stark had often cooed, “Always trying to get away, and yet if I let you where would you go? You cannot even crawl yet, you silly girl.”
Her husband was the first to see Benjen, as he’d been the first to see all of her children, save for the Maester and Kenna who helped with the labor. He smiled just as she had, Benjens’ smile was just that sweet and infectious, his laugh even more so.
He sat and held him for awhile, telling her he approved of the name and that he seemed a strong and healthy babe, that upon speaking with the Maester he believed it would be best if this be their last child, considering how hard the birth had been on her body. Lyarra heartily agreed, for it had been a long and difficult labor that had left her cold and drained. Then he gave both she and the baby a hard kiss upon their foreheads and departed, just as he had done the last four times, save for once.
She thought back to when Lyanna had been born, at the height of spring, and remembered being both glad and saddened to see him so enamored with her. It had not been so with her first born daughter, though perhaps time and old grudges had clouded the memories of the unease she’d seen in his eyes upon first seeing Edwyna.
“Red eyes. A fire where there should be ice.” He had said, shaking his head. He’d left quickly then, having seen his first born son and heir already.
But Lyanna…with her he’d sat for hours and marveled.
“She is a beauty,” He had said fondly, “She has wolfs blood in her, that’s certain. You can see it her eyes, same as Brandon…Ned too if you can get him riled up about something.”
Lady Stark had nodded and smiled, but in the end said nothing. Her relationship with her husband is only civil so long as she holds her tongue, although even when she criticizes him she knows he would never dare harm her in any way, of which she is thankful. There are times however, when she misses the easy young love they’d shared when they first wed, a love that had slowly but surely been buried as the years went on and his southern gaze drew her ire more and more.
Although…with how he’d been acting with Edwyna lately, taking an interest in her hobbies and her studies…she had hope they could once more regain some small bit of that past camaraderie.
Now that her husband had left, soon her children would come to meet their new sibling as they had always done. As if on cue, her children filed in behind Kenna, and each looked upon their new brother with varying reactions. Ned was the most enamored unsurprisingly, he always was the softest of her children, and she was sure he was quite glad to no longer be the youngest boy. Perhaps with a younger brother to look up at him he’d gain some confidence in himself.
Brandon seemed rather bored with it all, as he was when Lyanna was born, saying he didn’t get what all the fuss about babies was since all they did was ‘sleep and cry and smell weird.’ And Edwyna, clever, odd Edwyna had let him curl his hand around her finger and said, “He’s lovely…but I’d hoped he’d be a girl.”
“Oh well, you’ll still have little Lyanna to play with Lady Edwyna,” Kenna said as she tried to keep said little girl from squirming right out of her arms, “No reason to be disappointed in having another brother.”
“No, no,” Edwyna had said, shaking her head, “I mean I love playing with Lya but…I just thought if father had two normal looking girls then he’d marry them off instead of me,” She said nonchalantly, “and then I could go and join the Silent Sisters…or maybe just stay in some tower somewhere and read all day, like the spinsters in Old Nans stories.”
Lady Stark sighed sadly at her eldest daughter, and was brought back to Lyanna’s birth when Edwyna had taken one look and said, “Father must be quite happy.”
After everything that she’d been through…everything she had told her…if her heart could break for her girl anymore, it would. Not only for her awfully low view of herself, but also for her impossible dreams of a life of learning. First daughters to Lord Paramounts just did not join the Silent Sisters. And they certainly did not go to the Citadel to become Maester's, a dream that she’d known of for some time, despite her two eldest childrens’ attempts to keep it confidential.
“You’re normal!” Brandon immediately shouts in her defense, missing the point entirely. Lady Stark immediately shushes him, nodding to the sleeping baby, but it’s too late and Benjen stirs sharply into wakefulness, his cries swiftly filling the room. Brandon gestures to Benjen and Lyanna, “They’re the one’s who are not normal, always crying.”
“Don’t be stupid Brandon, crying is normal for a baby.” Edwyna said with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the anger on her brothers face. “I am absolutely certain you cried even more than Benjen and Lyanna combined when we were babies. You can’t seem to keep your mouth shut to save your life, after all.”
That’s true, Lady Stark thought in bemusement as she tried to calm Benjen down, Although Edwyna was often the one to make him cry…usually when she wanted something but couldn’t be bothered to cry herself.
“That’s not true! I can be quiet, I can be the quietest person you’ve ever heard!” Brandon said with a scowl, “I can be even quieter than ned, and he’s always quiet. They’ll name me Brandon the—the soundless, because I’m so quiet!”
Edwyna snorted and tried to hide her laughter. “That’s a terrible name.”
“Perhaps you can be quiet outside then, Lord Brandon the Soundless.” Kenna said as she marched over and grabbed the tip of his ear, dragging him towards the door. Ned snickered from his place on the floor distracting Lyanna. “You are disturbing the baby, or have you no ears as well as no sense? And you too little lady, don’t think I didn’t notice you rilling him up!”
“Ah, ow! Alright, alright you can let go now!” Brandon said contemptuously as he was rooted from the nursery into the hall. His sister followed behind quietly looking both chastised and annoyed.
“Now you two stay out here, and I want not one peep from either of you. Lady Stark is in a delicate state and she needs none of your foolishness, understand?” Kenna glared and turned to reenter the nursery, before stoping and giving them both suspicious looks, “And don’t even think about leaving this hall. You’re getting too old for me to be chasing you around the castle.”
Then, with a slam of the door, Lady Stark had peace. Kenna came quickly over to her to quiet little Benjen, who Lyarra gladly let her take in her exhaustion, and Ned and Lyanna went back to their games on the floor.
As Kenna rocked her newly born child, she watched Ned and Lyanna playing innocently and thought of her two other children sitting sullenly outside. How she wished all her children were as Ned was, so quiet and rule abiding…but then she didn’t truly, she was just so tired…and cold. She’d never felt this way in her last pregnancies.
For a moment she wondered if she should call the Maester…but then decided against it. Even now she was always hesitant to call on him unless the need was absolute. She was sure it would pass with some sleep…
At the thought she found her mind drifting, and she wondered what would await her in her dreams.
Dreams. She thought drowsily, Oh, Edwyna…if only I could take them from you.
She remembered vividly even now how heartbroken she had been to hear from her daughter all she’d been burdened with these long years. But she was also…strangely filled with wonder at all she’d told her. And it was that wonder that had fueled her to try to fervently these past months to sway Edwyna into the godswood.
Her dreams…the things she’d seen that night…they were beyond anything she’d ever heard of before. She could not help but believe they must have some purpose.
But Edwyna…she did not care. She did not care if her dreams were important. She did not care for her ‘purpose.’
—
“No…” Her daughter said, to her confusion. “I remember something else…something…after.”
“After?” She murmurs. After…after she’d fallen into the pond?
Edwyna took a deep breath. “That night…the reason I was in your solar in the first place was to tell you something. But after..after I was too frightened. I didn’t want to be sent away.”
“I would never send you away, Edwyna.” Lyarra said with conviction, although confused at the turn of direction in the conversation. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Edwyna sniffled and nodded, looking once more as if she were to burst into tears. But her stalwart little daughter held them back, and with nary a shake in her voice continued.
“I know people think I’m strange, that it’s not just my weird eyes, that I say things that don’t make sense or that I shouldn’t know…” In her lap her fingers twisted and pulled her dress in anxiety. “I think…I think it has something to do with my dreams.”
“Dreams?” Her mothers stare grew more intent at that and her hands upon her shoulders rub gently to calm her. “What kind of dreams?”
“Dreams that are real. Brandon said that you might have them too.”
“Yes…once I did. When I carried you within me, you and your brother.” Her mind drifted back for a moment to that day in the godswood, with the winter snow and wind whipping around her and red eyes staring through the weirwood into her soul. “But not since you were born have I dreamed as I did then.”
“What were they like? The dreams?”
“Odd. Terrifying. Confusing.” She responded slowly, “But I knew, in my heart, that they were not just simple dreams. I knew the gods were showing me something, telling me something, as vague as it was.”
Lady Stark closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, “There were winter roses of ice slowly melting upon the steps of a great tower by the sea. A burning Weirwood under a red sky. Two wolves chained and howling under a summer sun, giving their last panting breaths upon red stones. The iron throne loomed, and upon its points…well, that is not for the ears of a child.”
There was a moment of silence as the little girl gathered her thoughts. Lady Lyarra worried at what she would say next, and at once wondered what connection there was to the attack her daughter had suffered.
“I dream of a place that is not here. A place with towers of steel and flying metal boats. Of fires that never go out, of people so rich they throw out mountains of food and still grow so fat they can hardly move—”
“Oh,” Her mother sighs a laugh, interrupting her, “Wynnie, those are not like the True dreams. Those are just dreams, wild imaginations that bloom at night, when you have the time to think on them.”
“No!” Edwyna shouts, startling the laughter from Lady Starks’ face as quickly as it formed, “No, these are real.”
“Wynnie, calm yourself…” She says soothingly, “Dreams always feel real when you are in them.”
Edwyna shook, tears gathering in her eyes in frustration. “I see it when I wake sometimes. I wake and it’s as if the world is not how it should be, like I’m still stuck in a dream, but I’m awake. I look at winterfell and sometimes the towers rise higher and higher until they touch the sky. I look at the swords in the training yard and see them warp into strange things that shoot fire and smoke. I look at the heart tree…and I see eyes. My eyes, but not. Like they’re the eyes of some other me, in some other place, and they want me there not here.”
Edwyna shivers, eyes distant, and Lyarra feels struck still by what she is hearing.
“It hurts my head and I…I forget sometimes where I am and what I’m saying comes out wrong, not right, just like they say I am. Even I think I’m strange, even I don’t know what I’m saying and thinking sometimes.” With a deep shaking breath her daughter finally looks up and meets Lyarra’s startled eyes. “And then, when…when he threw in the pond…I saw something. Something like my dreams, but…not.”
“What…what did you see?” Lyarra whispered. She held Edwyna’s pale gaze unblinkingly, hardly noticing how they gleamed like red stained glass in the evening candlelight.
“Someplace…else. The Weirwoods had no faces, the ground was like some strange mirror of Winterfell…everything was ice and fog and shadow.” Lyarra took her daughters small shaking hands in her own, dwarfing them. “And then…I stood in a weirwood circle, and everything changed. They took me and it was like I was them, or they were me and—and everything made sense suddenly—and then they died and I woke up and—”
“Who took you?”
Edwyna stopped her rambling and swallowed heavily.
“The shadows. The shadows that said they were…me.”
“Edwyna…this is, this is quite a bit to take in…Shadows and dreams and a world of ice, I don’t know…” Lyarra murmured, pressing a hand to her eyes. After a moment however, a thoughtful look passed over her her face, “The place of always winter…”
Edwyna nodded, “Wylis…he said Old Nan called it the Otherworld. He said—and I know I’m not supposed to listen to Old Nans’ stories anymore, but—he said that she spoke of the Otherworld as the place where the Children of the Forest went to rest, and where the Others were born.”
“Gods…Edwyna,” Lady Lyarra murmurs, a heavy fear dropping to the pit of her stomach when they lock eyes—but it’s a fear for her, not of her. “Have you told anyone else of this…place? Of your dreams?”
She shakes her head wearily, “Not about the…the Otherworld. Just the dreams, and only Brandon. He thinks they’re real.”
Lyarra had always been a believer, her faith in the old gods was absolute and she was often considered too superstitious even by Northern standards. She didn’t know anything for sure, except that there was much that was unknown and unproved in this world, and so anything was possible.
But even so…this was a lot to take in. Were they truly just dreams? Were her wild imaginations and strange ways just the influence of a lonely childhood and a kind old woman’s stories, as she’d told Rickard all those weeks ago?
Or was there…a bit more to this than she’d thought?
She thought back to that night, all those years ago, the vision she’d seen beneath the weirwood. It had fueled her faith for so many years, and now she had the same feeling as she did then—that this was not something to be ignored. This was…important.
“Oh my poor girl…” She whispers, drawing her slightly resisting form closer to kiss her forehead. Then, after a moment silence she made her decision. Whatever the truth, she could not ignore what her daughter told her, not if they were a sign from the gods as she could not help but believe.
“I believe you. I believe you saw what you say, whatever that was. I do not know it’s meaning, or why they showed you what they did…but I believe it is important and we must not ignore it.” Lyarra sighed against the fear that rested in her belly, and used it to put as much weight as she could on her next words, “And you must promise me that you will tell no one else these things. They will think you mad, do you understand?”
“Yes,” Edwyna whispers, looking more troubled and solemn than any child has the right to look, “They…won’t go away? Like yours did?”
“I don’t know darling,” Lady Stark said sadly, “Dreams of the waking world are no longer dreams…but visions. I had but one of those, and it was before the heart tree, where it showed me you. Your beautiful eyes staring back at me from the weirwood tree, just as you say you saw. I thought the gods had answered my prayers, I thought to myself, ‘those eyes will be the Norths salvation.’ Perhaps the gods are trying to tell you something as they did with me. Perhaps they won’t stop until you understand what it is…”
“I don’t want to understand it.” She cries softly, “It hurts my head…I just want it to go away.”
“I’m so sorry Edwyna.” Lyarra shakes her head, “But the gods do not always give us what we want. If I could bear this for you I would, I’d take it all in one beat of my heart, so long as you suffered no more.”
As Edwyna slowly calmed against her breast Lady Stark held her ever closer, as close as her position would allow. “My only advice…is to talk to your brother. He will ground you, and I believe talking about it will help you fear it less. Fear only serves to cloud the mind.”
Edwyna says nothing, does not even nod, and Lyarra strokes her hair to comfort her.
“I don’t think I’m meant to be here.” Edwyna whispers, eyes wide and distant. “It should’ve been just Brandon. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Shhhh, don’t say that.” Her mother began to rock her back and forth, “You are my daughter as much as Brandon is my son. I birthed you both, held you both, sang to you both…don’t ever say that is wrong. You are here, and you are not wrong, just different. Understand?”
She didn’t speak, just nodded and pressed her face further into the neck of her mothers dress. The pit in her stomach stopped feeling quite so unending as before, her mother words filling them with warmth.
In that odd place in the back of her mind that lay in the shadows, the worry that her mother would agree and send her away was vanquished. Warm in her mothers embrace, the words she’d confessed began to drift away, her eyes grew heavy and though she resisted, sleep rose to claim her.
Lyarra continued to cradle her in her arms, afraid to let go for even an instant. She did not understand what was happening to her daughter, but she did not doubt that she was hers.
—
It should’ve been just Brandon. I shouldn’t be here.
Her words echoed in her mind, feeling just slightly off—as it was sometimes with Edwyna, when her words seemed to come from somewhere else, from a place in her mind that perhaps understood everything for small moments at a time, before it slipped away again.
She was meant to be here, the gods had shown her that, perhaps even given Edwyna to her. She could not believe that there was not a reason she was here, and this episode had only strengthened her feelings on the matter.
As she drifted to sleep on memories and half formed thoughts, she felt a surge of fear for her daughter. Being strange was not an easy thing in this world, especially as a woman, and she could only protect her from so much. Her boys, she knew, would have less trouble. Already they showed to be strong willed and healthy, loyal and honest to a fault. But her daughters…once again she was glad that her newborn child was a son, for all the worry daughters caused. She hoped that her youngest daughter, her sweet Lyanna, would not worry her near so much as the older did.
(If only those prayers had been answered, she would think years later. If only.)
—
And with the slam of the door, they were alone.
“Did you do that on purpose?” Brandon said suspiciously. “So we could leave, I mean? Not that I’m complaining that is, I’d rather not sit around and watch some tiny bundle of blankets snore anyways.”
“What? No!” Edwyna said, annoyed that he’d taken Kenna’s insinuating words to be truthful, “It’s your fault we got marched out here. You never think before you speak, do you?”
Brandon scoffed, “Why would I do that? I have you to think for me, after all. When I’m lord of Winterfell you’ll be my Maester, and whenever I need some thinking done, I’ll just have you do it.”
“Girls can’t become Maesters Brandon, only boys can,” Edwyna said with a scowl, “And I am most decidedly not a boy.”
“That never used to matter to you!” Brandon said, “We always said that’s the way it would be, didn’t we? I would be Lord and I’d kick Maester Wanker out, and then you’d be my Maester and we’d stay in the North, in Winterfell, together.”
“That was before, when we were five,” Edwyna scowled now, thinking on those long nights filled with stupid wishes and whispered plans, “What would happen when I married? I couldn’t be your Maester then could I?”
“Well…He’d just have to come here, to live with us! And if he didn’t want to, then I’d just tell him to shove off!” Brandon said with determination as Edwyna scoffed, “And if anyone else didn’t like you being my Maester, then I’d go tell them to shove off too!”
“Never mind Brandon the Soundless, they’ll be calling you Brandon the Boorish if you keep saying things like that.”
With a sharp scowl Brandon searched for a good response before giving her a shove in retaliation for her words.
“Always so witty Brandon,” Edwyna said as she stumbled from the push. It was something she really appreciated about her twin, that he did not treat her like glass as everyone else did since her near death experience. “Truly, I cannot defend myself from your sharp tongue, please spare me!”
“I’ll show you witty.” Brandon said with a growl and shoved her again. Quickly, Edwyna grabbed his sleeve as he pushed her, careening backwards from the force of it, and taking him with her.
“Oof!” They both said as they hit the ground. At once they turned to each other, eyes meeting, and begun to laugh.
“What is going on out here? Did I not make myself clear that you were not to make a peep?” Kenna said in a shouting whisper. “We only just got the baby down again! And your mother is asleep!”
“Yes, what is going on here?”
A moment of stunned silence followed the stern question, before both children looked at each other in horror.
“Father!” Both floor ridden children said in surprise. Quickly they stumbled to their feet and strove to dust themselves off. Behind Kenna, who stood still in the doorway, Ned peeked around to see what all the commotion was. Lyanna struggled valiantly towards the door but was swiftly stopped by gravity and weak baby legs.
“My lord stark! Come again so soon?” Kenna said with confusion, “We’ve only just put her down you see, so it is not the best of times, but perhaps Lady Stark—”
“No, thats all right Kenna.” Their father said dismissively, still looking at his eldest children with thinly veiled annoyance. “Lady Stark needs her rest. I’m afraid I’m here to speak with my other children. Kenna if you could get Ned…ah, there you are, good. Now, Ned, Brandon…Edwyna, follow me to my solar. You'll be taking lunch with me today.”
—
Edwyna saw her brothers share a nervous look as they sat in their fathers solar, where they sipped tea as they awaited lunch. Although Brandon and Ned had been in the room once a week for years, Edwyna had never been permitted, and so she soaked up her surroundings eagerly.
She’d never seen so many books, there were even more here than Maester Walys' room, something she hadn’t thought possible. She read the spines one by one, memorizing the interesting ones with hopes her brother could borrow it and give it to her; she hadn’t stollen a book since the…incident and she was itching for a new one.
“You’ve both reached your seventh name day,” Her father announces as he came and sat before them, “Already two weeks ago now. And little Ned, already six…time flies swiftly when you care not to see it pass.”
He heaved a great sigh and leaned forward, gaze studying the three of them quietly. Edwyna didn’t miss how he gave her a little smile when he met her eyes. She still felt her stomach flutter in happiness every time it happened now.
“As you are of age now I’ve arranged for your own quarters and servants.” Lord Stark said finally, looking at she and Brandon. “It is customary for children to leave the nursery at seven, as I’m sure you are aware. Kenna will stay with your new brother, Lyanna and Ned for another year, in the nursery.”
Edwyna felt saddened by the words, but she nodded anyways. She’d known this would come, and though she would miss her brothers shifty, snoring presence, it might be nice to have her own quarters. As much as she’d hated being bedridden all those months ago, one nice thing had been the quiet of the room, which had been wonderful for uninterrupted reading—although the books had not been anything of too much interest lest they ‘excite her weak constitution’ as the Maester had said.
“No longer will you be required to stay with Kenna or your mother at all hours. Now you’ll have daily tutoring, rather than thrice weekly as it was before, and I expect you both to respect and obey the authority of your respective tutors—whether they be Maester Walys or not. If any come to me telling tales of your disobedience or disregard of your studies, there will be consequences. Understood?”
“Yes Father.” They both intoned. Neither of them wanted to find out what those ‘consequences’ would be.
“You shall be the Lord of Winterfell someday Brandon.” Her father said sternly, and they both knew he was likely thinking back on their tumble in the halls earlier, “You must conduct yourself as such from now on. Ser Rodrik Cassel will begin teaching you the ways of combat twice a week, and after your lessons with him you shall come here to learn strategy with me. Otherwise you shall be learning your general studies with the Maester.”
Brandon nodded and looked quite eager at learning swordsmanship. He’d been pleading every day with Kenna to take them to the training yards to watch Wylis practice. Lord Stark then turned to Edwyna and she straightened in her seat. “And you Edwyna…one day you shall marry, and be the Lady of your own keep. You must learn to manage a house and prepare it to survive the long winter. You will join your mother in her solar after she has recovered—until which you shall be taught by the Stewards wife. I suspect she will have you spending a good amount of time in the glass gardens.”
He looked away and Edwyna took a deep breath to calm her heart, nervous and giddy from her fathers attention. It made her brave enough to ask a question. “F-father? Perhaps I could join Brandon and Ser Cassel sometimes? For archery, of course, not swords.”
Her father rose an eyebrow at that, “I hadn’t thought you the inclination for such things. Always stuck in some corner reading or…playing with strange things.”
She blushed, wishing again he’d never found her that day she’d been enamored with finding a way to light the fire without getting up from bed.
She’d taken several enhancing glasses and a polished mirror from Maester Walys’ study, and was using rope to try and keep them at just the right angle in relation to the window and the fireplace, when he walked in looking for Ned and Brandon but found her instead.
He’d looked at her so strangely, and she was sure she’d looked mad, all tangled up in rope and surrounded by slowly rotating mirrors and bouncing streams of light…it had been a foolish idea she realized now. But all that time abed had made her silly in her boredom.
“But if you truly wish to learn, then I will not stop you—as long as your constitution allows it of course. Archery is a fine pursuit for a noble lady to exercise in her leisure time.You’ll both soon learn to ride as well, though not yet alone.” Lord Stark smiled slightly, looking amused at something, “You’re legs put together wouldn’t be enough yet to keep you on a horse.”
“I can do it alone,” Brandon said bullishly, making their fathers smile widen, “Just let me try, father, I’m sure I can do it without anyone else.”
“Your brash stubbornness will get you many things Brandon, but it will not get you longer legs.” Their father laughed, and it was a wonderful sound that Edwyna had never before heard in her presence. Brandon seemed especially good at drawing it out of him, something she jealously admired.
Suddenly a quiet clearing of the throat brings the rooms attention to their youngest member.
“If I’m not to leave the nursery…” Ned asked hesitantly. “Then why was I called here father?”
“Ah, Ned, that brings us to our second matter of attention.” Lord Stark says, “The matter of where you all shall be sent to ward when you come of age.”
“Ward?” Ned asks in confusion. “We’re…going someplace?”
“Not for several more years, but it is something we must speak of now, to prepare you. All of you will leave to learn from other great houses for several years, and the other children you befriend there will be your allies in years to come.” Lord Stark had suddenly grown quite serious again, looking Ned in the eyes with solemnity, “The ties you make there will strengthen our house, and perhaps open marriage talks. You are here today, Ned, because I have already secured an arrangement with Jon Arryn of the Vale for you to be under his protection and teachings for several years. Come your eighth name day you will ride for the Vale and become his ward, along with Robert Baratheon, heir to Storms end.”
“The Vale? But that’s…so far south.” Brandon says with a grimace. He looked at his younger brother with growing sadness, “And in only two years…”
“This will be a good opportunity for a better relationship with the south.” Lord Stark says with finality, “And Jon Arryn is a good and honorable man, so I’ve heard. I believe you’ll do well there.”
“Thank you, father,” Ned finally says with wide eyes, “I’m sure I’ll get used to the idea of going south…”
Edwyna bites her lip to keep from speaking, already thinking on how far south her father might want to send her. Brandon he can’t possibly want to send away anytime soon, being the heir to winterfell, but her…she only hoped she would be sent somewhere close enough to visit at least one of her siblings.
“Mother says the south is full of fools.” Brandon said with a glower. “Why does it matter what relationship we have with them?”
Lord Rickard stiffened at that and his figure suddenly seemed imposing where it blocked the sun from the great windows behind him.
“Your mother is wise in many things, but in this she is as ‘foolish’ as she believes the southerners to be.” He said with a tight jaw. “The north is isolated and though I was glad for this short and gentle winter we have had, it only worries me for what the coming years will bring. Winter is coming, and without the south who will feed out people? Without alliances there is no trade, and with no trade…there is no food. And in a long winter that is what is needed most.”
Brandon pouted, no doubt feeling chastised and confused on which of his parents to believe. Edwyna too felt off kilter, having lived so long with her mothers scalding words and opinions on the south in her ear.
Her fathers words made sense…although Edwyna still could not comprehend the true fear he felt at the thought of winter, as the only one she could remember living through was quite gentle. But then she also hated the idea of her family scattered to all corners of Westeros, never to be heard of again but through letters and keepsakes.
A knock then came at the door, breaking the heavy silence that permeated the solar.
“Enter.” Lord Rickard intoned, and a servant rushed in looking harried.
“M’lord…” The servant said with a nervous quaking voice, “M’lord, something has happened…”
Her father stood then with his usual steely countenance in place, suddenly piercing the servant with the entirety of his attention.
“Your wife m’lord…the lady Stark…” He continued, head bowed, “She’s…she’s—”
“Out with it!” He barked, and the man jumped.
“She’s taken sick!” He stammered out, wringing his hands. “The Maester…he says there was a sudden bleeding…she may not last the night.”