The Lost Stark

The truth behind the deceit.

~Ryker

    Confusion grows in my mind as I watch Lord Manderly's men and the Knights of the Vale escort women, children, and the elderly through the harbor, corralling them into smaller boats that work rhythmically, leaving the docks and returning empty. The confusion comes from the fact that many of these people are not from White Harbor. In fact, based on the sheer number of different sigils, it looks as if every Northern House from Moat Cailin to The Wall has sent their non-eligible fighters here to be shipped away.
    "My King." A soldier dressed in my family's armor bows in front of us as we walk through the cobbled streets of White Harbor.
    "Rise," I tell him, looking around at all the women, children, and elderly lining the streets, waiting patiently for their turn to board a ship. "What is going on? Where are these people going?"
    He follows my eyes, looking around. "Princess Harper, she has given the order to evacuate all those who cannot fight to The Three Sisters."
    "The Three Sisters?"
    "Aye, My King. She says the dead can't swim, says it will be the safest place for them and that Lady Yara can pick them up and bring them to Meereen in case we lose to the walkers." He answers with a sense of respect.
    "Good." I nod, feeling the tight grip of anger at our children ease a bit to make way for a sliver of pride to shine through. "That's good."
    "Not good enough to erase the fact that they left," Condon grumbles at my side, making Daenerys huff in agreement.
    "After this, they are never leaving my sight," Margaery states firmly, with Alexandria nodding in agreement.
    "You know, Ryker," Daenerys says softly, drawing my attention to her. "You have said many times that we will be the death of you, but really, I'm leaning towards the certainty of them being the true reason for your death." She finishes with a playful smirk.
    Letting out a breath of disbelief, I shake my head. "How is it you are not as worried or angered as we are about them leaving yet again?" I ask, gesturing between myself and all the others.
    "Don't think for a second I'm not," she laughs, looking over to the Unsullied who march in formation, heading out of the Harbor towards the Kingsroad, leading wagons upon wagons of Wildfire. "I am beyond pissed. However, I know their aunt and your people of The North will keep them safe."
    "That is until we arrive," Margaery interjects tensely.
    "Which will be when?" Daenerys asks, looking to Condon and me.
    "A day and a half, if we were to ride with the caravan, Your Grace," Condon answers, clearing his throat.
    "And if we were to ride ahead?"
    "Possibly before the sun rises on the morrow if we were to leave now and double up on horses," he answers, ignoring my glare.
    "We need to ride with the armies," Jon tells them. "It will show those who remain that we are here to help, not invade."
    "Being here at all should show—"
    "It won't," I cut off my wife. "Do you know why my father had never allowed those outside the Keep to know of my wolf? It matters not that they are here to help; to the people of The North, you are not their Queen until you have earned the right to be their Queen. And no offense, but in order to hold onto your crown, you need The North's support."
    "She's right," Tyrion speaks up, coming to a stop beside Condon. "Every person that has ruled successfully before you has done so only because they've been able to keep good relations with The North."
    "Grandmother has always said 'the realm only prospers with the right Targaryen on the throne and the right Stark in the North,'" Margaery whispers with her gaze unfocused.
    After a moment of silence, Daenerys finally breaks the tension by letting out a frustrated huff. "You best have a damn good plan for keeping us warm," she pouts, breaking away from our group towards the horses with Margaery on her arm.
   
   
~Harper
   
    "A raven has just arrived from White Harbor. Your father and mothers have arrived, along with the Unsullied and supplies," Myrcella's voice pulls my gaze from the steam rising from the baths as she enters the chamber, wrenching the thoughts of Lord Baelish from my mind. "And your people have named you The Wolf of Winter, or the White Wolf. Lord Umber had quite the time boasting drunkenly of you during supper. Quite honestly, though, I had thought your brother would have thrown him out on his ass if it weren't for Lady Sansa allowing it to happen. Which is understandable. There's not much to celebrate in these times, so bringing justice to the one who started the wars bringing ruin to many noble houses is something to celebrate."
    Meeting her eyes, I feel my heart pick up and the burden of Littlefinger's death ease from my chest just enough so I feel as if I can breathe again. I know that she is my intended and I couldn't be happier. I just wish there wasn't this impending doom hanging over our heads so that we could celebrate our union as tradition says we should. "You're beautiful, you know that?" I whisper, trying to chase the dark thoughts away.
    "What's wrong?" She asks, furrowing her brow, taking a seat on the black stone edge.
    "I took his life," I breathe out, trying to hold back the trembles wreaking havoc in my heart. "I told them to wait for father, to let her question him so she could finally get the answers she deserves, but I took that away. I let my anger control me and I took his life. I wanted to end him."
    "From what I heard, you gave him a choice." She replies, scooting closer and starting to run her fingers through my hair, calming my nerves ever so slightly. "He made that choice and faced the justice he deserved."
    "Did he though?" I sigh, leaning back into her touch. "Sansa and Arya came to me with this half-cocked plan and just because Bran spoke of things only father and I could know, like a fool, I went along with it. I mean the argument in the Godswood was planned. However, the fighting? Her saying that I wasn't a Stark? That had to come from somewhere buried deep down inside her."
    "Have you talked to Arya?"
    Shaking my head, I let out a sigh. "I don't know if I could trust her words if I were to. She and Sansa are looking after the North. It's like they want to accept our help but still judge our ways. I believe when mother and father take the Throne, they are going to want independence despite us constantly showing them what we can offer them."
    "And what does Rickon say about your worries?"
    "He's wanting to give them a chance, yet I can't help but harbor doubts that the North will end up rebelling against the crown sooner or later. I mean, we don't need their armies. However, we need their allegiance."
    "That we do." She hums quietly, sending a shiver down my spine. "Perhaps you should bring up these concerns with your parents when they arrive."
    "Perhaps, that's if they don't kill me first." I nod, looking up to meet her gorgeous eyes. "How are you liking Winterfell so far?"
    "It's much different from the last time we were here, but that's understandable. I will say the company is so much better though." She smiles, placing a soft kiss on my forehead, making my heart stutter. I know she's doing it to distract me, but I can't help but love the warmth spreading throughout my chest.
    "Is that true?" I tease back, hoping she will give me another kiss.
    "Absolutely true. I swear it on the old gods and new." She winks, bending down close enough so her perfect lips hover just over mine. "It's so true that I wish for no other company for the rest of my days." She whispers, gently placing her lips against mine. For a moment, it felt as if time stood still. The worries of my mother's and father's arrival washed away along with the cloud of uncertainty that came with the news of the walkers. In this singular moment, all that mattered was her, and I couldn't be more grateful. "You are blushing, my princess." I hear her whisper as her smiling lips ghost off of mine.
    "When it comes to being in the presence of your beauty, I could never not blush." I reply, grinning as if I was just named champion of a tourney. "Are you sure that you want to spend your life with me and not Quentyn? I'm sure he could give you a safer life."
    My heart jolts as she leans away to sit upright on the ledge once again with a saddened look on her face. "That I'm not sure of. When Uncle Tyrion sent me to Dorne to marry Trystane, it felt as if I was living in a literal pit of vipers and scorpions, each one of them waiting to strike the moment I had done something they deemed to be wrong. Prince Oberyn and his family did their best to protect me and show their people that I was not like the same Lannister that murdered their Princess Elia, nor was I the lion that snatched those babes from their cribs the night King's Landing was sacked. But it didn't work. And though I loved Trystane, it always felt as if he held my family's crimes against me in some regard. It wasn't until we met that I noticed it. There is no sign of hate or disgust hidden by a veil of civil pleasantry within those violet eyes. You do not withhold affection because I have had a slip of the tongue. You and your mother embraced me for who I am despite who my parents are. That is why I said yes to your proposal, Harper, and that is why I will continue to say yes to you for the rest of my days."
    My heartbeat in tune with every nervous breath I took as I took her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers together, loving how her slightly tanned skin clashes against my paleness. "I am so glad you said yes, my princess," I tell her with a smile.
   
~Ryker
   
    Feeling the frozen ground beneath my paws makes my heart thud in ways it hasn't since I was young and my twin was at my side while our parents looked over us as we played. It hurts, in a way, to be home without them. I never thought I would have to exist in a world where they didn't, yet here I stand with the family Daenerys, Margaery, and I built, ready to defend our children as fiercely as my mother once did.
    "You worry too much, Ryker," Condon's gruff voice rings in my head, letting me know he has finally joined me in pelt.
    Letting out a huff, I turn to his smoky grey form and roll my eyes. "Let's go. I promised the Queens Northern venison for supper." I know my wife and intended will be waiting for my return.
    We stayed in White Harbor the night we first arrived to oversee the progression before moving to join the Dothraki at the Kingsroad. They enjoyed the warmth the inn offered, but out here, with no buildings to protect them from the chilling winds or stone hearths to warm the tents, it didn't take long before they turned against me. The once semi-lighthearted mood Daenerys had held evaporated the moment the sun dipped below the horizon, bringing the cold Northern nights I used to love as a child. Soon enough, the two of them buried themselves beneath the pile of furs in our tent as I lit the small brazier. Just as the flames flickered to life, they both demanded a warm meal to thaw their frozen bellies.
   "It'll get better once they are within the walls of Winterfell," Condon grumbles as we pick up the scent of a small pack of deer.
   "That's what I'm worried about. Sansa has made it known that she does not approve of The North remaining part of the Seven Kingdoms. Even if we come out of the Long Night unscathed, I can foresee it being a problem." I think of all the possible outcomes. "If she doesn't fall in line, then I fear I might have to either take control of The North myself or give it to Rickon, who already wants nothing to do with separating from us."
    "I believe if it means saving The North from a worse fate, then Rickon would rule. Probably one of the reasons he is there now."
    "We won't know until we arrive." I sigh, lowering my body to the ground to sneak up on the group of deer scuffing up the snow to get to the grass underneath. "The stag is mine," I growl lowly, crawling on my belly.
   "Not if I get him first." I hear Condon tease before seeing his grey fur fly past me without warning.
    Growling, I jump to my paws and chase after him, not wanting to be outshined. I'll be damned if I let anyone else bring back food for my women, no matter how mad they are at me for it being cold. It takes two seconds and one large bound, and my jaws wrap around the stag's neck, snapping it quickly to give it a clean, painless death before my paws hit the ground. Ignoring Condon's scoff, I turn and help him chase down the rest of the herd. Once they are all down, I can't help but puff out my chest in pride. I once again proved I could provide for them. I let out a loud howl, letting everyone in the camp not a march away know our hunt was successful. In an instant, I feel warmth spread throughout my body as Daenerys and Margaery send waves of love through our bond, letting me know they heard my call.
    "Flaunt much?" Condon teases, nudging his shoulder against mine as he picks up the doe in front of us by its scruff and drags it toward camp.