The Targaryen Princess

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Natari's POV:

Yeah, so that didn't happen. No less than a day after we were made aware of Robert's visit, illness infiltrated Winterfell. First, it swept through the servants, but the Starks soon succumbed to it. One by one, they fell ill and were ordered to stay in their rooms. Eventually, Maester Luwin and I were the only two left in the fortress unaffected. Suddenly, all my worries about Robert's arrival disappeared and were replaced with one's of true seriousness. My mind was completely occupied with the fears of my adopted family dying. I spent my days at the side of the ill, helping the Maester with whatever he required. Luwin diagnosed the sickness as an infection of the lungs, and by all reason, we should have had at least a mild case between us, especially with how often we were exposed, but we did not get it. By the end of two weeks, Winterfell's numbers were cut in half.

Unfortunately, crisis struck at the Wall. A raven came with news that an overwhelming number of Wildlings had stormed Castle Black. This very same infection was running rampant among the men of the Night's Watch and their numbers were sorely depleted. Luckily, they were able to hold their ground, but great damage was done. They needed supplies and man power to help in the rebuilding process; Winterfell was obligated to help even though no on was healthy enough to do so. I met with Ned and I proposed I answer the call. He agreed that since I was the only one available I had to go with at least some supplies. Ned promised me it would pose no risk to me, and I was eager to get out of the sick stench and into the open air. I left immediately with a wagon full of everything we could spare.

The ride was only a few days long, but it was freeing. I hadn't left the Winterfell area since I arrived even though all I had to do was ask Ned. I laughed a little knowing how much Robert would hate my leaving Winterfell. When I finally got there, I marveled at the sheer height and width of the Wall, but I wasn't distracted long; I had work to do. Working in step with Commander Mormont, we tried our best to fortify Castle Black, but men were getting sick every day and many people were lost during the attack. After a week, I was down to just 10 good fighting men, but we had completed all the repairs except the iron gate which would take about two more days.

We were eating a late lunch in the mess when a man stormed through doors, panting heavily. "They're coming," he said. I will never forget that. For as long as I live (which doesn't seem like much longer at this point), I will remember those words. He was a scout and said that Wildlings were amassing not far from here. The men were beginning to panic, but I remained collected. I instructed him to go back and track their movements. There was a chance that they could not be coming to Castle Black. I told him to return when he was sure they were approaching us and, if so, to bring me numbers. Which brings me to right now.

I stand facing beyond the Wall, wind burning my cheeks. It has been two hours and my heart was racing. Back down there everyone is looking to me for strength, but up here I am free to be weak. All I think about is death. It is the final equalizer and seems to always chase after Targaryens with a vengeance in an attempt to balance the scales, but this time I don't think that I deserve it. I have hopes yet to be fulfilled. I hope to see my sister, I hope to marry the love of my life, I hope to have some purpose for my life, I just hope...

I inhale sharply at the sight of a black rider making his way toward the gate. I wait a few minutes in strained silence before I hear the elevator coming up. "An hour," I hear Mormont say. "200." I sigh and lower my head after he answers my unspoken question. Sure, two hundred men is no Westerosi army, but eleven people cannot take on 200. I turn to the elevator and walk inside without meeting his gaze. He steps in beside me, but, still, I am quiet. When we reach the bottom and the door opens, I walk swiftly out, and, not looking at the worried faces of the men under my command, go to my quarters. I get behind my desk and pull out parchment and a quill. I take a few minutes to write a letter before a knock comes from my door.