Overture
Lord Rickard Stark, Winterfell's Godswood, The fourth month of 284 AC
Rickard looked down at the broken and battered body before him. An assassin tried to kill his granddaughter while she played outside in the Godswood with the rest of his grandchildren.
This was the third attempt since the new year, the first to be nearly this successful, and he was starting to go from annoyed to beyond furious.
He couldn't let it show, not in front of his people, he had to be strong for now. It wouldn't do for him to lose his temper.
“How did he get this far?” He asked Leaf, being careful not to sound accusatory.
“He follows the Red God,” She replied with distaste, patting the red flame of R'hllor on the body's deformed shoulder. “They know different magics than what we can do. I will need to confer with Dame Yira on how to combat this better. The defilers may not use much magic anymore, but they are not above courting those that do it seems.”
Defiler was a word that Leaf had used to describe the Andals and before the pact, the First Men. She was not overly fond of those in the South save for the ones that kept to the old ways and still married those with the old blood.
Rickard was happy that the Andals only advantage on them was the ability to move their numbers quickly and were well provisioned in some cases. He knew from the old stories that Andalos was filled with magic and that the invaders had used magic before.
He guessed that inter mixing with a different group of people had canceled it out and the lack of contact with the Children had made many bloodlines lose their magic unless they married those that hadn't. His own family had intermarried with the Children before they went underground.
And thank the gods that we know our lands better than they do, He thought with a sigh, “So how did you stop him?”
“I didn't, Visenya did.”
Rickard blinked once, then twice, and on the third time he spoke.
“Say that again,” His incredulous tone earned him a huff and an eye roll.
“She may be a babe but her power is strong,” Leaf murmured fondly. “She's an earth mover, and if you humans lived long enough she would learn how to move mountains, at most she'll probably learn to destroy a castle or two.”
Leaf spoke with such normalcy that Rickard blinked once more. He looked around at all the blood, frowning.
“How did she kill him?” He dared to ask. He wasn't sure how he felt about his grandchild killing so young, but he supposed that it could be worse.
“She clapped her hands together and held them there and the earth itself mimicked the action,” Leaf demonstrated the move to make sure there was no misunderstanding. “She tired herself out, the poor thing, and she fell asleep. The strain was just too much for her.”
“And how did the others react?”
“The young ones thought it to be a trick, Lady Catelyn grabbed her son and nephew and started running at my behest. The other children were taken by the Wolf Guard you formed. It took me almost half an hour to pry the earth apart and put it back where it belonged.”
Rickard absorbed the information quietly before shaking his head, “Send the body down a river, the water should be enough of an insult to his god. I'd have him buried if I thought that his rotting corpse would nourish the land instead of poison it. A pyre is not an option to consider right now.”
“Of course Lord Stark,” Leaf nodded her head, looking thoughtful. “I have a few a ideas, all of them theatrical but it would send a message to our enemies. You should speak with Lady Catelyn, she seemed frightened by the whole thing.”
Rickard nodded his head. “See it done. I will go and speak with my good daughter.”
Lady Catelyn Stark, Winterfell's nursery
She had calmed herself as she looked over the children. Robb and and Robin rolled around, laughing all the while. Markus watched over them from a distance while he sat next to Visenya's crib. Catelyn found herself staring at the crib with trepidation.
“Its not her fault,” Dacey murmured from her left as she held her daughter Lyarra.
“Excuse me,” Catelyn turned to her good sister and blinked.
“Its not Visenya's fault,” Dacey repeated. “She didn't ask for any of this.”
“I know that,” Catelyn retorted then added a little defensively at Dacey's look of disbelief, “Its true! I know it isn't her fault.”
“Then why do you make that face when you look at her crib?” Dacey raised an eyebrow. It irritated Catelyn to no end.
“Because I am afraid, is that what you want to hear?” Catelyn replied coldly. “My son and nephew were almost killed today. My niece was almost killed today and I am afraid of what she could become when she gets older. How many of us almost died today?”
“Did you want her to die?”
“No!” Catelyn growled out, angry and horrified at what was just said. “Visenya is not the problem but her presence has caused problems. We only just finished one war we cannot afford another.”
“You mean your father cannot afford another. Though that hasn't stopped him from igniting one amongst his banners.”
Catelyn flinched at that. Her father had been upset, she was told, when news of her nieces parentage was revealed. Every house that supported the Targaryens in his region, and were already punished after the war was done, were punished further in response. The men were hanged, the women were separated and married off to various loyal houses to try and hold claim to their lands.
House Darry had been obliterated and their castle and lands were given to Ser Emmon Frey, Genna Lannister's husband. Some of the remnants of these houses fled the Riverlands to parts unknown, though a few did enter the North. She remembered the desperate and enraged faces of those her father had dispossessed while her good father had given them shelter.
“That is enough Dacey,” Catelyn turned to see her good father standing in the doorway. “Lady Catelyn is not at fault for what her father did.”
“Neither is Visenya,”
“No one here has said that, least of all Lady Catelyn.” Lord Rickard intoned sternly. “Benjen will want to know of your status.” The dismissal was heard by all. Dacey bowed her head in Lord Rickard's direction and started to stand. She gave Catelyn one last look, eyes drifting down to Catelyn's stomach that she had cradled protectively throughout the conversation.
Dacey's gaze softened a bit into one of understanding. She gave Catelyn a nod and took her leave with her daughter.
“How far a long are you?” Lord Rickard asked after a moment. He bent down to pick up Markus who had toddled up to him. He smiled down at Robb and Robin who crawled his way. He sat down next to her as not to trample the boys.
“Maester Luwin believes I may be a month into my pregnancy,” Catelyn made herself small, hunching over her stomach as if to shield the life growing inside of her. “He also believes that I may be carrying twins. I know that twins are not common in the Stark family -”
“But they are common in yours,” Rickard said softly. “This is wonderful news Catelyn, why have you and Ned not announced it?”
Catelyn flushed and looked away.
“You've not told him have you?” Lord Rickard sighed at her silence. “Still cross with him are you?”
“While I am displeased with not having been told about Visenya in the first place, I can forgive that,” Catelyn replied. “But with war all but declared on the North, I wasn't sure if my telling him would bolster Ned to do more or worry him to no end.”
“Ned is always going to worry, its in his nature,” Rickard replied. “And war has been declared for a long time. Its just done more overtly now.” He grabbed his grandsons hand when it gripped his beard too tightly before tickling him.
“I see none of her in his face,” She murmured, thinking of the boys mother.
“There is a bit of Barbrey in his nose and at the corner of his mouth,” Rickard countered, smiling when Markus giggled at being tickled. “But he looks almost exactly like Brandon did when he was this small.” He looked at her then. “Is his presence still an issue for you?”
“No, it is not.” She admitted honestly. “I worry over him being a potential pawn for someone else. I doubt that fear will ever go away given how some of the Northern Lord reacted to the truth about Visenya.”
None of the houses had declared war on house Stark, and they had no love for the South, but they were not happy with how Visenya came to be. They must have felt that the war they fought was pointless and a Stark had helped start it no less.
“Fair enough,” Rickard nodded, before he could speak, a messenger came running into the room.
“My lord,” The man panted loudly, startling all the children. “A letter from our scouts below the Neck.”
He handed off the message and Catelyn moved to pick up the two boys on the floor and place them in their cribs. Visenya whimpered at the loud noise and opened her mouth with a small cry. Catelyn picked her up and began to bounce her. The girl was clearly tired and weary but she didn't continue with her crying.
“It seems Lord Tywin has been given unimpeded access to the Riverlands thanks to Hoster Tully,” Lord Rickard said grimly. “He marches for the Twins. Tell my nephew to raise the defenses of the Moat,” He said to the messenger. “Have letters sent to all the houses in the North. War is here.”
Catelyn tried to swallow down her fear but there was a massive lump in her throat. Oh father, what have you done?