A Prince of House Targaryen

Direwolves of House Stark

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Chapter 36 (No Time Left), Chapter 37 (A Wildling's Life), Chapter 38 (Crow's Eye), Chapter 39 (To The South), Chapter 40 (White Harbor), Chapter 41 (A Bear's Roar), Chapter 42 (Where it All Began), Chapter 43 (Harrenhal), Chapter 44 (A Feast and A Queen), and Chapter 45 (Queen Rhaella and The Hidden Prince) are already available for Patrons.

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Ned Stark

Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the chair; his legs felt numb and lifeless, as if they would fall off at any second. Jon had left his solar an hour ago, along with Benjen, who said he wanted to meet his new daughter-in-law.

Leaving Ned alone in his solar with his thoughts invading his mind. After begging for him to be the only one who would receive a punishment, Jon had simply stared at him; it felt as if he wanted to shout at him that he had no right to beg for anything; Ned knew Catelyn hadn't been kind to Jon and hoped Jon's anger, and perhaps even hatred didn't run deep enough to make him want her punished as well.

Ned knew that she hadn't been a good woman to Jon, but the Lord of Winterfell didn't want all his children to be suddenly left with no parents to guide them; Rickon was only three name days. Ned knew there was no way out of this one; he would be executed for crimes against House Targaryen; he just hoped Rhaegar Targaryen and Jon would show mercy to the rest of his family. A small part of him feared what he had dreamed that night; his family executed in front of him; Ned could still hear the sound of the blade cutting through their necks, their heads on spikes, blood dripping from their necks, their lifeless eyes glaring at him, their pale lips cursing his existence.

"Lord Stark!" Ned escaped his thoughts when the shout from Ser Rodrik reached his ears; he blinked before turning his attention to the man with a concerned look written all over his face.

"Ser Rodrik?!"

"My lord, I have been calling you for a minute. Should I call Maester Luwin?" Ser Rodrik suggested worriedly, but Ned quickly shook his head. He took a deep breath to calm himself, massaging his temples.

"No need. Why are you here?" Ned dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"Your son Bran Stark is practicing his archery; I wanted to let you know in case you wanted to observe," Ser Rodrik informed him.

Lord Stark thought of it before nodding after a short pause; watching his son would be the right thing to do to calm himself. He thought perhaps after the archery, they could all hunt together, perhaps even Jon. It would do well for everyone.

"Lead the way,"

Benjen Stark

After his nephew had rushed out of Ned's solar, Benjen had been quick to follow him. He had wanted answers and to talk with his nephew, perhaps hoping that his nephew wasn't trying to take revenge on the entire Stark family, but Benjen quickly dismissed the thought; Jon loved his siblin-cousins to punish them for something their father did.

Jon had gone where he had expected, in God's Wood, sitting in the weirwood's root, his back leaning against the tree, his sword over his lap, Val sitting close to him, humming something to his ears. Her hands were playing with his curly hair.

Benjen stopped in his tracks; he suddenly felt like he was back in time; he remembered it; he could almost see them as if they were alive and breathing right in front of him; Benjen remembered his father, he would always seek comfort in the Weirdwood trees of God's Wood, but nothing could calm him as much as Lyarra's voice. Benjen barely remembered his parents; it had been many years, and he had almost forgotten their faces, their voices, but he remembered this, he had seen them many times, and he would never forget this.