65 Chapter 65: The Starks of Winterfell

<p>With the Night's Watch no longer functioning, Benjen Stark had remained in the shadows at Winterfell. He had sat alone in the castle for weeks whilst his brother and his niece and nephews fought for the livings freedom and had welcomed them all back with open arms, but once Ned had regained control of Winterfell, as much as Benjen was included nothing was ever quite right, and for the undead First Ranger it had been both a blessing and a curse to see the castle move on, and with the next generation now being brought up in plain sight, he had felt out of place for a long time.<br/>It was on the anniversary of his Father and Brother's deaths that the First Ranger found himself in the crypts, staring up at Brandon's statue. Benjen sighed and placed a hand on his eldest brother's chest. "You were the bravest of us all, Brandon. I hope we can meet and drink together in death as we never truly got to in life." He said calmly. He moved down a little to his sister's statue, the cold stone not reflecting her warm and kind face at all. "I regret not stopping you every single day." He whispered to the statue. "You would be so proud of Jon, Lya. He's a fine young man and will make a wonderful King, I am sure of it." Then finally, he turned to his Father. "You wanted better for me, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't stay and raise a family as you would have wanted, to help grow our family, but I pray that you are at least content of my choices, Father."<br/>"Benjen." Ned's voice came from towards the entrance of the crypts. Benjen sighed and moved down slightly more, where a new statue had been erected in the last few months, one that depicted his own face. Ned's footsteps grew louder, until they were right beside Benjen.<br/>"It's time, Ned." Benjen explained. "I cannot stay here much longer, I have cheated death for long enough."<br/>Ned's face betrayed nothing, but his eyes were shining. "You can stay, you know that."<br/>"I'm dead, Ned." Benjen sighed. "I have been for a long time." He opened his undershirt and showed Ned the black veins spreading out from the visible shard of Dragonglass in his heart that was keeping him alive. "You have your family here, I'm just… in the way."<br/>"Never." Ned said stubbornly, but he pulled Benjen into a hug that had the air of finality about it. "I love you, brother."<br/>"And I you, Ned. Now and always." Benjen said with a smile. He took a step back and looked back up at the statue. "At least it looks like me." He chuckled.<br/>"Farewell, Ben." Ned said, a tear leaking down the stoic man's face. Benjen said nothing, instead he walked behind the statue and climbed into the stone sarcophagus. With some effort he managed to pull the lid up over the top of himself until he was emersed in pure darkness. Closing his eyes for one final time, he dug his fingers into his heart wound and pulled the shard of Dragonglass out of his heart.<br/> <br/>Karhold looked an unforgiving and grim castle, Rickon thought. The thirteen-year-old was riding towards what would be his new home for the next couple of years until he married Alys Karstark on his 16th nameday and moved to Wolfswatch to rule. Ser Rodrik Cassel was leading his escort, and soon enough the Stark party were rising up the grim grey stone road towards the entrance to Karhold.<br/>Once he was inside and dismounted, he had a look around. The workers, Northman and Wildlings that had stayed alike were all staring at him like he was some form of god, wide eyed and surprised. Rickon smirked and patted his horse, grabbing his sword and putting it in his belt. Ser Rodrik gestured for him to look towards the actual keep, and so Rickon did.<br/>He recognised his future wife straight away. He had met her once when she came to Winterfell as their betrothal had been announced, but he had been too young to understand fully back then. Now though, she was a woman, and he could actually see and appreciate that. Next to her stood the new Lord of Karhold, Lord Eddard Karstark.<br/>"Lord Rickon." Eddard Karstark bowed his head. "Welcome to Karhold."<br/>"Lord Eddard, I didn't expect to see you here." Rickon admitted. Lord Eddard was also the Lord of the Golden Tooth after all and before the Long Night he had been living in the Westerlands.<br/>Eddard Karstark smiled. "Duty called me North, and my lovely wife was glad to see the back of me I am sure." He said bitterly. "Come, let me introduce you to my niece, Lady Alys."<br/>The woman curtseyed, her long ginger hair neatly plaited down her shoulder, reminding Rickon a bit of Arya. "Welcome, My Lord."<br/>Rickon felt uncomfortable, but at the nudge of Ser Rodrik he stepped forwards and kissed her hand. "A pleasure, My Lady." He said nervously.<br/>"Come." Lord Eddard said. "You must be hungry, let us all get acquainted over some food, shall we?"<br/>Rickon nodded as he was led into the castle by his future wife and family, and as the doors shut behind him, he realised that this was going to be the exact moment that started his new life.<br/> <br/>King's Landing under King Aegon VI was a different place than before, Bran quickly realised, and it changed even more when the Queen gave birth to a beautiful Valyrian looking baby girl. The Master of Laws was stood in the Queen's rooms with Jon as the new parents fawned over the newborn baby, and it made Bran think of himself and Shireen for a moment.<br/>"We have a name." Jon said, breaking Bran out of his internal thoughts. "It's horribly traditional."<br/>"Jon." Dany scolded with a tired grin. "We need a bit of tradition."<br/>Bran nodded his agreement. The change in rulership had been met with positivity so far, but a traditional Targaryen name would go a long way with the public. "What have you decided?" He asked.<br/>Jon grinned as he picked the baby up out of Dany's arms and moved to hand the baby over to Bran. "Uncle Bran, meet your niece, Princess Visenya."<br/>Jon had definitely been right. "It's definitely traditional." Bran grinned. He gently rocked baby Visenya in his arms. "Hello Visenya." He said calmly to the sleeping baby, as he took in her tuft of silver-gold hair.<br/>An hour later and Bran was back in his chambers. With the King and Queen out of action, ruling had fallen to him as a senior member of the Small Council, and because of that he was in control of dealing with the final sections of the rebuilding of the Dragonpit. His door opened as he was signing off on the plans, and he looked up to see his wife walk in.<br/>"What a day." Shireen exclaimed happily. "I'm so tired."<br/>Bran chuckled lightly. "Come and lie down, I'll have your dinner brought to you." Shireen nodded and walked over to kiss Bran gently before she settled down on their bed, her hands moving to her stomach protectively. "I saw the baby earlier."<br/>Shireen grinned excitedly. "The Queen gave birth?"<br/>"She did." Bran confirmed. "A little girl. Visenya. They're having the day to themselves before they ring the bells and announce her birth."<br/>"How precious." Shireen cooed, before she directed her voice to her belly. "You hear that, Stannis, your future wife was born today."<br/>Bran rolled his eyes, but he listened in as Shireen talked to their baby fondly. He had been so angry for around a year after he had seen Stannis Baratheon die, but as he sat there in that moment with his wife talking to their child like he was already here, Bran felt content.<br/> <br/>Far to the North of Bran and King's Landing, a small group of Northern riders were sat in a hastily set up camp and huddled around a fire. Arya Stark bit into a chunk of rabbit leg and chewed quickly, relishing the rest that the group were getting. She looked across the vastness of the Rills and noticed that the Saltspear was relatively close.<br/>"I could do with a bath." She commented.<br/>"Aye, you reek." Lyanna Mormont snorted in amusement. The youngest Mormont girl had relished the chance to escape Bear Island when Arya had set out on her mission, and the Stark was more than pleased to welcome both of her foster sisters.<br/>Lyra Mormont smirked back. "As do you Lya, no bears are coming within three acres of you."<br/>Lyanna threw a rock at her sister. "Good, I'm not letting no hairy beast spill themselves in me. I'm not Dacey."<br/>Arya grinned. The baby boom after the war had even claimed the eldest of the Mormont sisters, though Dacey Mormont had so far refused to name the father of her daughter as anything other than a bear. She looked around their group, with the Mormont sisters being joined by the bastard of Hornwood, Cregan Glenmore, and Beren Tallhart. The six of them had formed an unlikely friendship after the Long Night, and under Arya's leadership with a handful of men from each of their families lands they rode around bandit hunting.<br/>"Dacey a mother, I still can't imagine it." Lyra shrugged. "It'll be Arya soon, the rate she's going."<br/>Arya scoffed. "As if."<br/>"We hear you at night." Beren Tallhart snorted. "I've never known a wolf to howl so much, you must be good, Cregan."<br/>Arya laughed loudly as her lover had the decency to blush. "Don't jest simply because you're still a maid, Beren." Cregan teased.<br/>"Too right and all, my Mother would castrate me if I wasn't before I was wed." Beren grinned. "Not that that's happening soon, is it my love…" He looked at Lyra pointedly.<br/>Lyra picked up the still sheathed Longclaw. "You keep suggesting that and I'll be the one fucking you, with this." She said firmly.<br/>Arya laughed again as she finished off her meal before she leant comfortably against Cregan and let her eyes roll back into her head. Nymeria was chasing the scent of their prey, and Arya made the Direwolf look up to see the remnants of a fire just on the banks of the Saltspear. Bringing her mind back to her own body, Arya spoke quickly. "They're just by the river. They've camped for the night."<br/>"We can get them before they cross if we leave now." Cregan stated.<br/>"Aye." Arya nodded. She rose to her feet and picked up her two steel axes. Turning to Cregan, she winked and said. "I'll race you."<br/>Cregan raised an eyebrow. "If I win?"<br/>Arya shrugged, but made sure to sway her hips exaggeratedly as she walked over to her horse. As she mounted up and kicked it into a gallop hearing the thundering sounds of horses behind her, she smirked widely. She had always said she wasn't a proper Lady to her family whenever they tried to suggest her future, but this is what she wanted. A horse underneath her and the wind in her hair, ready to protect the North from the bandits that roamed it.<br/> <br/>Sansa held her daughter tightly in her arms as the cold winds blew around the courtyard of the Dreadfort. The household of House Bolton were outside marking a year since the death of Roose Bolton in the Long Night, and Domeric had decided that it was high time that House Bolton became truly his. The three-year-old Bethany Bolton squirmed to try and get to her Father, but Sansa held her tighter, knowing that Domeric needed to do this without interruptions.<br/>She cast her mind back to Riverrun, where the horrors of the North had barely reached her safe in her Uncle's castle. There the only worries had been looking after the young children and worrying about what was happening hundreds of miles away, and Sansa thanked the Old Gods every day that her loved ones had remained living. She thought on Robb then, her elder brother only just getting over the effects of the battle.<br/>Shaking her morbid thoughts away, Sansa reminded herself that Winterfell was in her past. When she had moved to the Dreadfort 3 years earlier she had been lucky enough to quickly get with child, and Roose Bolton had left her alone for the most part. Sansa watched as the old, flayed man banners were being placed on the pyre that Domeric had built as she thought about how little she cared that her goodfather had died. She had almost welcomed the news, in fact. Of course Dom had been upset and she had put on the face of mourning for his benefit, but she knew what Roose was capable of. That was the main reason she wanted to be standing there, watching as the old regime burned away in the flames and to see the new one, the House Bolton moulded by her and Domeric, rise from the ashes.<br/>"I want to go." Bethany squirmed again.<br/>"Later." Sansa whispered, brushing her daughter's auburn hair out of her eyes and behind her ears. Bethany was her pride and joy, with the Tully genes winning out in yet another generation. Sansa kissed Bethany on the head and then turned to watch her husband as he picked up a torch.<br/>"For many years House Bolton has been mocked and scorned as ruthless savages and traitors." Domeric began. "This would see that image change." He nodded over to his captain of the guards who hoisted up a new banner, one that Sansa had stitched herself. The colours of House Bolton remained, but the sigil was now a simple white longsword, outlined in blood red and on a field of navy blue. Domeric's design from his trip to the true North come to life. "With our new banner flying proudly, it is time to let the past die." Domeric continued, lowering the torch down into the pyre. The flames were slow to take hold, but after a minute or two the orange flickers grew, and Domeric walked over to her side to watch on. Bethany almost jumped over to her Father's arms, and Domeric took her with a hidden smirk. "This is what we wanted." Domeric said quietly so that only Sansa could hear. "House Bolton is ours now, Sansa. To mould as we see fit for our children."<br/>Sansa only smiled at the thought.<br/> <br/>It had taken time, but Robb Stark now only needed a walking stick if he was going to be on his feet for a prolonged period of time. Picking up a sword was still a long way off, but if Robb was honest he felt like he had already fought in enough wars for a lifetime. He was more than content to do his duties within the castle now, a far cry from the young man eager for combat all those years ago. Instead of training himself, Robb often made his way to the same balcony that his Father often watched from as he, Theon and Jon trained down in the courtyard. Leaning heavily on the wooden bannister, he saw Beron swinging his wooden sword calmly and proficiently, his skill with a blade still raw, but the talent was there. Little Rodrik on the other hand looked rotund in his padding, and his own weapon was smaller than normal.<br/>"Come on Rodrik, keep your shield up!" Beron was exclaiming as the pair circled one another. Robb noticed Ser Rodrik leaning off to one side, keeping a close eye on the pair during their bout. Beron whacked his sword, intentionally clumsily, allowing Rodrik to swat it away with a shield. "Good!" He allowed Rodrik to swing at him, parrying it away with his own shield before Beron hit Rodrik on the helmet.<br/>"Ouch!" Rodrik cried, sitting frustratedly on the floor.<br/>Beron moved to lean over Rodrik. "You're doing well, but you need to keep your shield up. If you don't, I'll keep ringing your head like a bell."<br/>Robb smirked at the wording, having heard it numerous times from his own youth. He felt a presence beside him, and he smiled as the footsteps of his wife joined him. "I thought I'd find you here." Wylla Stark said calmly.<br/>"It's peaceful." Robb admitted. "I enjoy watching them train."<br/>"Beron will be a good teacher one day." Wylla said, as they both watched Beron hoist Rodrik up and push him towards Ser Rodrik. "I just hope he doesn't grow too arrogant…"<br/>Robb shuddered. "He won't." He insisted. He stared down as Sara's future husband, Gawen Glover took to the courtyard to spar with Beron. "It's our job to make sure that he doesn't." He sighed, turning to his wife and leaned in to kiss her.<br/>"What's this?" Wylla smiled happily.<br/>Robb shrugged. "I've just had to do a lot of thinking with this." He gestured to the walking stick. "And I'm so grateful for you, Wylla. And the boys."<br/>Wylla rolled her eyes amusedly, but she leant in for a one-armed hug and leant her head on Robb's shoulder, before applauding when Beron managed to slam his wooden blade into the elder Glover boy's chest. Beron looked up at them alarmed but grinned at the sight of his mother cheering. He locked eyes with Robb then, and Robb smiled fondly, nodding the once in approval. His own life may have been forever affected by his battles but looking down at his sons as they trained gave Robb a sense of optimism that filled him with hope that the future would be a lot better.<br/> <br/>As the Lord of Winterfell, Ned was often called to investigate some strange goings on across his own lands. As the spring suns began to melt the snows in the North, he was yet again summoned away from his castle to the Wolfswood. As he dismounted his horse and walked towards the blood stains on the muddy floor, he knelt down and inspected it with his glove. "The carcass was here, I swear it." The farmer who had explained the situation to him said nervously.<br/>"It was dragged away." Ned explained. "By something large. Blades out, men."<br/>Swords were drawn, and Ned followed the blood down a small hill and towards a stream. In the distance he could hear some high-pitched whining, and something in his mind persuaded him to stop. "Stay here." He commanded.<br/>"My Lord…" Jory Cassel insisted.<br/>"It's alright, Jory." Ned said calmly. "Nothing will hurt me today." He carried on walking beside the stream for less than a minute when he saw the beast that had taken the stag carcass. She was lying down observantly as no more than 5 wolf pups were mauling at the dead stag, ripping off as much flesh as their little mouths could manage. The Direwolf's ears popped up and she twisted her head at the sight of Ned, her mouth turning towards a growl. "It's alright." Ned insisted quietly as he took another step forwards. "I am not here to hurt you." The Direwolf seemed to believe him, and the mother stood up on her four legs and walked slowly over to him. Ned had seen his children interact with their wolves often enough and took his glove off of his right hand, offering the now bare skin to the mother to inspect. It took a moment, but he could feel the emotions of the mother in his head, and she felt warm and content. "Come, let us get you to safety." Ned laughed, remembering a similar occurrence so long ago.<br/>When he arrived in Winterfell he spotted Robb up on the balcony as his eldest son tended to do often now, and down in the courtyard his youngest two daughters were playing with Robb's children and Sara's direwolf, Red. Almost immediately eyes were turned as Ned strode into the castle in front of a large Direwolf, but the children were immediately drawn to the five pups by her side.<br/>"Father!" Lyarra exclaimed running up to greet him. "Have you got a wolf now?"<br/>Ned picked his youngest up. "It seems that way, little one." He said, pressing a kiss to her head. "And there are 5 pups, one for each Stark child."<br/>Lyarra began to beam. She had long been jealous of her siblings relationships with their wolves after all. As Ned put her down she calmly walked up to the Mother and stroked her brown fur, before she spotted a dark grey pup. "I can feel you." Lyarra whispered. "You're mine." Beron and Rodrik soon picked out a wolf of their own, and Ned quickly sent Jory down to Moat Cailin with the remaining two pups, one for each of Torrhen's sons.<br/>Later on that evening, Ned made sure to tuck both of his daughters into bed. Sara was quick to fall asleep, with the direwolf Red curled up against the fireplace keeping warm, whilst in the next room little Lyarra was excited and wouldn't go to sleep unless 'Bael' as she had called her loud pup joined her on her bed. Ned amusedly kissed his youngest goodnight before he retired to his own chambers, where Cat was already ready and in bed.<br/>"More Direwolves." She said accusingly.<br/>Ned grinned. "Aye, I couldn't just leave them in the wild." He explained as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. "Lyarra is obsessed."<br/>"She's wanted a wolf since she understood her sister's connection to Red." Catelyn explained. "At least now she won't keep asking for one for her name day."<br/>Ned laughed as he pulled on his nightshirt and slipped under the covers, allowing Catelyn to shift over to cuddle into him. "The Gods have blessed us once again, Cat." He simply said.<br/>Catelyn nodded, tracing her fingers over Ned's chest. "We have been rather lucky." She sighed contently.<br/>"Very lucky." Ned nodded. "The realm is at peace and our children are safe. Our grandchildren are growing happily and without fear. When I see Beron in the yard with his wooden blade, or Sara and Lyarra racing around on Red's back, I know that our struggles have all been worth it to see the smiles on their faces." He smiled happily as he squeezed his wife contently, thanking the Gods in his mind for their blessings upon both him and his family.<br/> <br/>It had taken time for Torrhen to settle into his role as Lord of the Causeway and staying in one place for a prolonged period of time, but with the repairs to the castle made and the Seven Kingdom's returning to a calm peace, Torrhen's role had gone from military strategist to ensuring that the causeway could be profitable for the North. The turn to political thinking had been a shock at first, but a year into it the Stark felt like he was getting the hang of it.<br/>The Godswood of the Moat had thankfully grown into something that resembled a sacred space, and Torrhen found himself there on the day that Jory Cassel had arrived to give his two sons their Direwolves. Torrhen sat down on a rock by the Heart Tree and began to oil Winter's Bite, a site eerily similar to that of his Father with Ice, he noted in his head.<br/>"The Black Wolf." An old voice sounded from the tree, and Torrhen raised his head to see the old man in the raven feathered cloak stroking the white bark of the Weirwood. "The saviour of man."<br/>"Not this time, Bloodraven." Torrhen retorted.<br/>The elderly man chuckled. "Without you, none of this would have been possible." He countered. "Without you, your family would be broken and destroyed just as it was from the reality we plucked you from. Instead, they live and thrive. You yourself have two young sons that will get to grow up surrounded by family on all sides, listening to stories you tell yourself instead of the ones told about you."<br/>Cregan, the ever-present question on Torrhen's mind sprang up. "I will not fail Asher and Willam as I did Cregan." Torrhen promised.<br/>The Three Eyed Raven scoffed. "You live through two realities, yet you still do not see. This is your reward, Torrhen Stark. You have not failed."<br/>"A parent leaving their child to grow up on their own is a failure." Torrhen said bitterly.<br/>Bloodraven sat down beside the Stark. "Months ago, you stood on a balcony with your Father and explained you were content in your new life. I sense that there is still uneasiness in your heart, Stark." The old man placed a wrinkled palm on Torrhen's shoulder, and Torrhen felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.<br/>When he opened them again, he was in the Winterfell Godswood. Snow was falling gently as three children were running around the pond, when the two brunette girls, one dressed in a light blue and one dressed in grey, pushed their younger brother into the water.<br/>"Sara, Jonelle." A middle-aged man said warningly. He looked a lot like Ned, Torrhen thought. His brown hair was done in the same manner as Torrhen did his, and it had snowflakes nestled in it. "What have I said about picking on Torrhen?"<br/>It was a scene that Torrhen had seen before, all those years ago when the Three Eyed Raven had shown him his first reality. This time however, Torrhen wasn't forced back as quickly.<br/>"Not to do it." The girl dressed in grey muttered. The boy had pulled himself out of the pool and was shivering now, his eyes red. "Sorry Father, Sara and I were just playing."<br/>"You know our words." Cregan Stark said kindly, placing the sword on the ground and walking over to kneel before the three children. "Winter is Coming, and when it does we all need to stick together."<br/>"The lone wolf dies." One of the twins, Sara, began.<br/>"And the pack survives." Jorelle finished.<br/>Cregan nodded. "Good. Now go and help Tor back to the castle to get changed, and you can explain to your Mother why his new shirt is wet." The girls gulped, but they nodded and led the young boy away. The adult Torrhen was still watching on with pride as he watched his grandchildren from his first life run towards Winterfell, although he was distracted when the adult Cregan spoke once more. "Uncle Brandon foretold that this day would come."<br/>Torrhen choked back a sob as his first son, his lost son, turned and spoke directly towards him. "You can see me?" Torrhen asked.<br/>Cregan grinned, and the two men rushed together and embraced fiercely. "Father." Cregan whispered.<br/>"My boy." Torrhen added. "You're older than I am."<br/>Cregan laughed. "The Old Gods work in mysterious ways, that has always been true." Cregan sighed. "There is so much I wish to say to you…"<br/>Torrhen looked over at the tree, where the Three Eyed Raven just nodded his assent. Torrhen grinned and turned back to his first son. "I have time." He answered, gesturing to a pair of rocks. "Tell me everything."<br/> <br/>Hours later, a teary Torrhen was back in his Moat Cailin. He took a minute to compose himself before he stood up tall and walked out into his castle. He waved hello to Gendry over in the forge and grinned at Ethan Forrester trying to teach young Asher Stark to wield a wooden sword. Torrhen looked on proudly at his son before he entered the Main Keep and walked up to his chambers, where he saw Mira singing a song to their youngest boy, Willam. He stood in the doorway for a moment, just appreciating the sight.<br/>"Papa!" Willam cried, and the one-year-old squirmed in his mother's arms to try and get to Torrhen. Torrhen closed the gap and held his boy in his arms.<br/>"Hello little wolf." Torrhen grinned. He placed a kiss on Mira's lips before he placed Willam down on the bed.<br/>"You're in a good mood." Mira remarked.<br/>Torrhen nodded. "Aye, I am." He said. "I've just been in the Godswood, and our mystical friend appeared.<br/>Mira's eyes widened. "He's back?"<br/>"No longer." Torrhen explained. "He had one final thing to show me." Mira raised an eyebrow, and so Torrhen continued. "He gave me a chance to go back, to see those I left behind when I died. Cregan, Sansa…" He left the rest unspoken, but Mira knew. She always knew.<br/>Mira smiled at Torrhen and leant in for a hug. "So you finally got it?" She asked him gently. "The closure you needed?"<br/>"Aye." Torrhen admitted. "They're happy, they're well. I loved every second I got to spend there, but it made me realise something. That world has moved on from me, they don't need me. This world does, you and the boys do. All I need is what I have fought to keep over the last ten years, and I will continue to fight for until I die." He hugged Mira tightly as he looked back over towards his youngest son. "I'm home." He added finally, and for perhaps the first time, he truly meant it.</p>