Hello again my lovelies! After FOUR YEARS, I am finally ready to post the epilogue. I wanted to wait partially until the last season of GOT (mainly to see how it ended), and also because I never really felt ready to say goodbye to my characters. I'm hoping if you made it this far, and you're reading this that you'll think this was a proper way to send this story off. I hope this is the perfect conclusion to Iseis' and Robb's story...

Thank you, everyone, for your love and never-ending support.

Epilogue

"The coronation is tomorrow." Lyanna Stark jumped as Tyrion, her younger brother came into the crypts behind her. His feet made no sound as he walked softly on the cobblestone floors, barely making any noise at all. Whoever first used the expression 'silent as a crypt', really had no idea just how right they were.

Lyanna's heart raced as she clutched her chest. The fire from his torch caused her surroundings to be even eerier. The reds, yellows, oranges all danced around, causing dark shadows to be cast along the walls. "Seven hells! Don't sneak up on me like that!" She scolded him, "You already know I don't like it in here!" The flames flickered and moved as if they were dancers.

"Scared of the dark?" He chuckled, trying to make a joke. Tyrion always did that. He made jokes to lighten the situation, to try to make her feel better. Mother always said he reminded her of her own uncle, the one he was named after. None of the Stark children had ever met him, so they had to take her word for it. Apparently, he was a wise and fair man, a trait Tyrion had seemed to inherit.

"I've never liked this place. Not even when father used to take me down here as a girl. He used to howl like a ghost, telling me he could speak to them." She shuttered but slightly cracked a smile. "Mother hated when he told us scary stories like that," She could still hear the scolding of her mother as she reprimanded her father.

Tyrion snorted, "Mother hated when father did a lot of things." He spoke as he looked at his older sister, and she looked back at him as her saddened expression dropped. "Are you alright, Lya?" She hadn't heard her childhood nickname in many years, but it brought comfort to her in troubling times such as these.

"Do I look alright?" She snapped, her mother's fiery temper rising in her chest. She had often been told she had a similar temper to her mother, and it had gotten in trouble one too many times.

He only stared at her appearance. Lyanna was dressed in all black mourning clothes. Her reddish brown hair lay drab along her cheeks, her green eyes lacked the spark it usually had. Tyrion didn't look much better, his curly, fiery red hair came just past his shoulders, his cheeks sunken in and his eyes bloodshot from the last few days. "No,' He said shortly, clearing his voice. "Neither of us are."

"It's been a terrible Winter." She said sullenly. It had been the longest one since the Wars of Winter, not that she remembered it.

She had been only three name-days old when her father went to war for the first time in her short life. Of course, she didn't understand. She didn't understand why he had to go, and why for so long. She didn't understand when mother waited day by day for a raven to bring news. Or to have her waiting by the window and watch caravans come by, wishing to hear any kind of news regarding a battle. It had been before Tyrion was born; back when it was only her, mother, and father.

Tyrion didn't have to see the world in the worst winter yet. People froze in their homes, even lord's starved to death in their keeps. Mother had worried over the small folk as she would have over her own children. Winterfell prevailed though. They prevailed. Mother had even defended the keep from an army of Ironborn. Lyanna was six name days old then.

She recalled the fear she felt among gazing out from the maester's tower in the highest part of the keep. Her father had not been home in two years, she barely even knew if he was alive. They had not heard word from him nor Uncle Jon. It had been before the dragons came.

"What's she doing?" It was hard for Lyanna to see through the snow. She saw just enough to notice the black horse her father gifted her mother from Dorne. She was riding in front of the men, going back and forth among the troops and yelling at them. She had no sword to fight with; except for decoration and dire situations of course. But she had her words, and for some reason it was the most powerful weapon of all. The men yelled, banging their swords against their shields and screaming in war cries. They screamed for their lives, their homes, and for the Queen in the North.

"She's inspiring them." Samwell Tarly, her maester, and caretaker said gently and patted her shoulder. "Your mother is a strong woman."

He was right, she was strong. They defeated the army of Ironborn that arrived at their walls that day. It was then she knew Iseis Stark, her mother, was more than a regular Queen. She and her father had reclaimed the North as their own and began rebuilding Winterfell before she was even a single name-day old. After the dragons came, her father returned home not long after their arrival and the North prospered more than it had in centuries. He had sided with the Dragon Queen, and the North had remained an independent nation due to his servitude and loyalty.

Spring followed shortly, and Lyanna recalled getting chased around the gardens amongst the flowers by her father. Her chubby legs would run as fast as they could, away from the man that would take her in his arms and tickle her should he catch her. She smiled as she remembered how he used to pick her up, throw her in the air and make her scream, and then rub his bearded face against hers and make her squeal even more from his kissed placed all over his cheeks. "Father, no!" She used to scream, giggling. "But I'm the kissing monster!" He used to yell back before peppering her even with even more.

It wasn't her mother told him to stop with a stern voice that he finally listened. It took only a year after his return for her to grow large with child again. Mother was never supposed to have another child after Lyanna had been born, but the gods had blessed house Stark after all the suffering they had gone through during the War of the Five Kings. She glowed with happiness while she was pregnant with Tyrion. Until she had carried him for a little after half his term. Then she was never happy, she ached all over and never smiled. There had been an accident, that had almost caused her to lose the baby growing in her womb.

What made her miserable was the bedrest. The only time she smiled was when Lyanna used to lie with her in bed have her read stories to her. Her mother had smiled as she read the tales to Lyanna as she rested her head on her large belly.

Then Tyrion came along when Lyanna had been six name-days. He had been an ugly little thing, pink and screaming and bald except for the little tuffs of red hair on his tiny head. She had been afraid mother and father would no longer love her when the new baby came. But mother assured her that would never happen. It wasn't until later she learned that her own mother, Queen Cersei, had once loved her until her younger brother had come along and stolen her attention. He was a cruel boy though, according to the stories. Tyrion was nothing like that. Father and mother had raised him to be a good and kind man, fit to be King after her father.

King. Tyrion would king following his coronation the following day. He looked older than his 26 name-days. Already the weight of the crown was heavy. How father had done it with such ease was a mystery to the two of them. "First Rickon," Tyrion said heavily, sadness etched into his deep tone. Rickon was only 12 name-days when he passed. The youngest of them by a long shot. Mother had long since past the usual childbearing years, into her forties. It had surprised the kingdoms just as much as it had their family.

Mother and father were older at that point, and by the time Rickon was old enough to pay in the gardens, father could not chase after him as he did to Lyanna and Tyrion.

After Rickon was born, there was another war. It had mostly been peasant riots and wild folk, but they had gained enough followers to form a militia. Father was gone again, helping the Dragon Queen in the South fight her battles. When he came back, he could hardly walk. He had taken an arrow to the knee, and he couldn't move without limping and a cane to accompany him.

What good was a warrior king if he couldn't even ride into battle with his men? He had wondered. Mother didn't let him think like that though. Lyanna remembered how mother and father used to walk among the harvests for hours. They used to walk arm in arm; walking as fast as father's limp would allow. Rickon used to run ahead through the fields, playing with whatever toy he brought. She could see them from the keep windows. Her mother's hair was still a deep brown, but streaks of grey was running through it. She had begun getting old, and lines began to form in the crease of her forehead and the corners of her mouth.

"I'm getting old!" She remembered hearing her parents from across the hall. Rickon was a toddler, and her father was playing with him on the bed. He had been grey for a long time, any trace of his auburn hair had disappeared. His eyes were tired, and the battle scar that ran along the edge of his cheek made him look even older.

"You're not old. Young enough to have birthed a child just three years ago." Father said and smiled as Rickon passed him a wooden horse figurine with a toothy grin.

Her mother only huffed, "Look at these wrinkles!" She turned from the mirror and pointed them out to her husband.

Father only picked up Rickon in his one arm, and stood up and held his cane in the other hand. He walked to mother and then looked at her face. "Where?" He seemed so much older than he was. They both did. The years had not been kind on the King and Queen of the North.

She grimaced and then pointed, "Here and here."

Robb starred, and then only grinned. "My love, those are only smile lines." He assured her, "And you are still the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms to me."

She only chuckled and shook her head before saying, "You kiss-ass." And then took Rickon in her arms.

"First Rickon" Lyanna said sadly, "Now them."

Their little brother has passed four moons ago. Something had happened in the woods that day. It was Rickon's second hunt, and Tyrion and father had been there. Father could ride occasionally with his leg if he did enough exercises beforehand. He didn't do it often though since he could barely walk for days after and be sore for at least a week.

Lyanna was with her mother in the study. Her own husband, Aldric, had accompanied them on the hunt as well and so she decided to spend the day going after food stores. It had been raining all day, with a mix of snow that suggested that winter was coming.

They had heard a ruckus in the courtyard, a panic of people. They heard father's voice yelling desperately for a maester. Mother had a look of panic in her eye, and before Lyanna had even realized, she had been racing down the corridor of stairs, her long skirts flowing behind her as she moved quickly.

Tyrion and Aldric came barreling through first, soaked from head to toe in rain. Her father had come in next just as lightning struck. Without the aid of his crutch, he moved hastily with the young boy being carried limp in his arms. Tears followed down his cheeks, mixing with the rainwater and making it barely noticeable except for his ragged breathing intakes and the way his lips quivered. Ignoring the pain that must have raged through his leg, father was able to place Rickon on a table so Maester Sam could at him. The small 12 year old was coughing up blood and struggling to breathe. Mother had immediately started sobbing and wailing, at his side in an instant but trying to be strong for him as she held his hand.

While they were hunting there had been an accident. Rickon's horse had slipped in the mud slick with rainwater and snow and falling on top of him and causing one of his ribs to impale his lungs.

When there was nothing to be done, Lyanna could recall as her mother, the strong woman she had seen rise up against an army of Ironborn, had collapsed into a heap on the floor. Crying and wailing, "Not my baby!" Over and over again she screamed as her father held her as he sobbed as well. There was not a dry eye in the entire keep after the sweet boy's death.

Lyanna did not emerge for days from her chambers. She stared at a wall, believing it was all a dream. Tyrion had spent his time preparing for the memorial and the burial. He sought distraction, knowing only pain would emit from idleness. Mother sat in Rickon's bedchambers in the same rocking chair she nursed him when he was a baby. Father had seen his own mother react in a similar way after her Uncle Bran had fallen from a tower.

Father sought comfort in other ways. He showed little pain by pretending to be busy, much like how Tyrion did. They were similar in that way. But everyone saw his bloodshot eyes from the tears that fell. The bloody knuckles was a give away that he punched the walls until his bones were almost broken.

No one was the same. And for awhile Lyanna wondered if anything good would ever happen to her family again. For months, mother still wouldn't leave Rickon's room, not even after they had put his body to rest in the crypts.

But it was one day, she saw her parents walking through the snow-covered grounds in the garden of the Heart Trees. Arm in arm, once again they walked as she had seen them do when she was a child. Snow fell into their hair, gathering in their eyelashes, and settling on their cold cheeks. They looked up at the sky at the same time, eyes towards the clouds that were releasing the snow upon them. They then faced each other, and father's blue eyes met her green ones. He only took his hand and placed it on the back of her head, and then brought her towards him so he could kiss her forehead gently and then held her in his arms. It was clear then, even though nothing was alright they were there for each other. They would always have one another.

Lyanna was one of the very few children in the world who could say her parents were truly in love. Her mother had never told her stories of how she and her father became married, but when she grew older she began to hear stories around town. She heard of how her parents were from rival families, and how they were intended to be betrothed prior to the War of Five Kings.

Her father used to sneak her mother out of her chambers at night, and take her to the hot springs of Winterfell or to see the lights. Lyanna still remembered the first time her parents had taken her to see the lights as well. She recalled how they sat on the ground in the loft of the barn, her mother held in her father's arms as they looked up at the sky. She was positive they had always been that in love, and she pictured them only a few name days older than her, doing the exact same thing as they were in that moment. She imagined they gave each other the same tender looks, and her mother rested her head on her father as he held her, the love between them apparent. Although Lyanna loved her husband Aldric, she was unsure anyone in the Seven Kingdoms quiet had a love like Robb and Iseis Stark. Even after years of being married, their love never seemed to fade and Lyanna was glad for it.

She heard the stories of her mother becoming her father's prisoner after their betrothal fell apart. There were jokes that she never was, in fact, a prisoner, and her father let her sleep in his bed the very first night of her capture. Lyanna laughed, knowing her mother likely accidentally fell asleep there and her father was too polite to wake her.

They had fallen in love in those few weeks her father was her captor. On Lyanna's sixteenth name-day, Great Jon Umber saw the King and Queen sitting at the head of the table, completely immersed in each other's conversation. Lyanna could see the love in their eyes and they talked.

"They've always been like that, you know." He told her, "I was one of the first ones to see it. They were lovesick." There was a beat, and he paused for only a moment before adding, "It was disgusting,"

Lyanna remembered doubling over in laughter after that comment. In a way, he was right. To every child, seeing their parents in love was slightly uncomfortable. But, Lyanna never minded that much. Not after her mother had told her the story of her grandfather and grandmother, King Robert and Queen Cersei's resentment toward each other.

Lyanna reminisced of hearing how her father was engaged to someone else, and he was also waging war on her family. They couldn't be in love, it was forbidden. But they married in secret anyway. Mother has then became before father went away, and something happened for a while where they weren't together and there was pressure being put on the King to send her back to the Lannister's.

He didn't though, and they were happy. Happy until the Red Wedding, which separated them for over a year. Mother forbade anyone from talking about the treason, but Lyanna still heard whispers. She heard of how it was a bloody affair, filled with horrors. Her mother, Queen Iseis, had to be pulled from her father's body since she refused to leave him and screamed threats of burning the Twins to the ground and taking the Frey's heads.

She never ended up doing so. Instead, she killed the Bolton's, another responsible party, and burnt their keep to the ground.

The Frey's eventually got what was coming for them also. The Dragon Queen burnt their keep, and House Frey was wiped out. Although her mother never got to make good on her promise, Lyanna could see she was relieved by their threat being extinguished. Although, she was not able to keep her promise and Lyanna could see she was biter about it.

Her mother and father reunited after Lyanna was born. All she had of her childhood was happy memories, filled with joy and love. When she walked past her parents' room even now, she could almost swear she could still see them resting in bed together, night clothes on, and silently reading to themselves as her mother rested her head on her father's chest.

With a fiery love, fiery quarrels also followed. Before Tyrion was born, all her parents did was fight. Lyanna used to lie awake, listening to their screams across the hall. It often kept her up at night, and she sometimes would hear her mother throw something at her father and smash it against the wall. Being King and Queen wasn't easy, and both her parents had different methods of ruling.

Despite each fight, it would always die down, and screams spewing hate would turn into soft whispers containing words of sentiment. The next morning, the two would hold hands at breakfast as if nothing had ever happened.

Even though her parents had their differences, the one thing they always had in common was their love for their children. Her father taught them the strength in being compassionate and merciful, and their mother taught them resilience and determination. Her mother always struggled with showing her children tenderness; she wanted them to not struggle in their lives as she did. She thought if she raised them without weakness, no one would be able to hurt them as people had hurt her.

Father often had to remind her that they were in a different situation than what she had grown up in. Lyanna, Tyrion, and Rickon had grown up safely in the North. Her mother had grown up in the Capital surrounded by snakes and people who wanted to use her.

Lyanna and her mother's relationship had always been strained. Queen Iseis, much like her own mother Queen Cersei, never knew how to be a mother. Lyanna found herself often seeking solitude with her father, who sometimes would also hide from Iseis. The two of them would stay hidden away in his study, they would laugh together and cry sometimes, and other times they would just sit and enjoy one another's company.

After a fight, Iseis and Robb would usually make up. She would see them speaking in hushed tones, and eventually, he would kiss her mother and everything would be alright. Her mother wouldn't often make up with Lyanna though, and things would go left unsaid. Until, she would sneak into Lyanna's room at night and sometimes sit at the foot of the bed, gently petting her hair. She would lie beside her sometimes as well, and then whisper sorry into her ear before kissing her cheek goodnight and telling her she loved her. Things would all be forgiven and forgotten between them until their next fight.

Lyanna wished she could take back all the fights she and her mother had gotten into.

Since not long after things seemed to gain some sort of normalcy after Rickon died, it was then mother began catching a cough.

It started off as a small cough, which then grew worse and worse with each passing day. Soon, she began to double over and shake as the coughing fits took her entire body. One day, there had been blood in her hand as she pulled it away from her face.

Things only got worse after that. Her mother was placed on bedrest, and her father sat with her day in and day out. Tyrion took on most of his duties, while Lyanna also had to take care of her mother's affairs.

Some days were worse than others, her mother barely able to even wake up. Other days, Lyanna could hear her parents laughing down the hall, acting as if they were young kids.

Once, she even heard her mother laughing madly, yelling "Robb, stop! Stop it!" As he tickled her. Again, Lyanna could see a flash of what they must have been like when they were around her age, youthful and mad with love.

Her father stopped the moment she started coughing. That time, she retched more than before, barking loudly into a handkerchief that was wet with blood following her fit. There wasn't any tickling following that incident, but there were lots of quiet conversations. Whenever Lyanna walked in, she could see the love present between the two of them as her father's old, sore fingers, worked a brush through her mother's hair and she frustratedly tried to teach him to braid it.

Tyrion had apparently walked in to visit their mother, and she had been giggling moments previously at what their father had been previously speaking of. Both their cheeks were red apparently, and it wasn't a mystery of what they must have been reminiscing about.

Lyanna was no stranger to the inappropriate rumours she had heard. She tended not to believe them, especially when it involved her mother's less than flattering nickname she previously had, of the "Whore Queen". Maids and servants often gossiped about such matters, and Lyanna knew that the one unhonourable moment her father had ever had was bedding her mother before they were wed. She suspected that had something to do with the nickname. And also, how there was once a rumour that began on her mother's first visit to Winterfell, that the Maester had caught them in a lover's tryst with his hand up her skirts. She knew that wasn't true, and that likely he had just been helping her detangle her gown after it was caught on something.

She once asked her mother if the rumours ever bothered her. What rumours? You should not concern yourself with such things. She would say. People always concern themselves with who powerful women chose to sleep with. Iseis would roll her eyes as she spoke, People only criticize the woman, never the man. I never heard any whispers of your father being called a "Whore King", yet he was an active participant too if I remember correctly.

Iseis tended to never care what people thought of her. That was another major difference between Lyanna and her mother. But then again, she never had to worry. Besides the rumours regarding sexuality, rarely anyone ever spoke ill of Queen Iseis.

It's why when she finally passed, it seemed as if the entire North was in mourning. But of course, the person affected most of all was her father.

Lyanna recalled in her mother's final moments, how she gently touched his cheek and whispered, "It's okay". He begged her as he sobbed, "Please don't go. Don't go. I need you. I can't keep going without you."

Her mother's breath stilled and the man that Lyanna knew to always be strong had finally broken. He wept into her mother's hair as he held her tightly, one last time. King Robb, the man who had freed the North, was without the Queen who had been by his side since the first day he ruled.

And Lyanna and Tyrion were without their mother. No one in Winterfell had a dry eye, and Lyanna watched as her father practically had to be pulled away from her mother as they removed the body. The bells of the tower of Winterfell rang out, signaling the Queen was dead.

From hearing the stories of the Red Wedding, Lyanna could never picture the heartbreak her mother must have gone through until that moment. She could see the devastation on her father's face that she knew her mother must have felt. She could hear the pain in his voice, that she knew her mother had first. She could witness the sobs that would have wracked through their bodies. She saw the agony and anguish. She felt every little piece of pain they must have been feeling, and Lyanna then understood why her mother had been the way she was.

Even after their mother's body had been taken out of the room, their father had sat there, unable to move. Lyanna had been there with him as they both cried softly. He only said one thing to her, his voice cracking as he did so. "She was the greatest love of my life. And now she's gone". He could barely utter the last sentence without his tone faltering, and Lyanna felt a sadness she had only felt once before after Rickon had died. Her mother had died, and now seeing the strongest man she had ever known so broken caused her heart to ache.

The only time her father had come out of their bedchambers was to make the funeral arrangements. Many of his lord's stated Queen Iseis was from the South and therefore needed a Southern funeral.

Her father refused and said she had always been Queen in the North. She would have a northern funeral and that would be the end of it.

A few days later, lords of the North and her Uncle Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Wall piled into the gates of Winterfell for the funeral.

It had taken place in the Godswood. Her father and mother had married in one many years ago. It seemed like the only place fitting for lighting the funerary pyre. The tears of the Weirwood tree seemed to cry for her mother, and Lyanna knew her father was right. This was the only place that did her mother justice. Although, she suspected it would be difficult for him to put her mother's body aflame in the place that reminded him of the vows they said to one another.

Her father was clearly barely able to hold it together, despite trying to stay composed in front of his bannermen. He was dressed in his armour; something he hadn't worn in a very long time. His face remained stoic as the torch was lit. He showed no expression, his face betraying his emotions despite Lyanna knowing that he was trying his very hardest not to cry.

The man was devastated, clearly. First, he had lost his youngest son several months before; and then his wife.

As the torch was lit, her father walked to where her mother was laying on the pyre. She was wearing a Lannister red dress, that tied at the front and was tightly cinched in at the waist. Her Direwolf necklace was around her neck, and her hands rested on her chest, clutching a blue Winter Rose.

She looked so peaceful, one could mistake her for being asleep. She looked younger than her 55 years as she rested there, traces of beauty still prominent in her face. Her father's lower lip trembled as he approached her, and Lyanna could see his heavy breathing as he struggled to remain strong.

The King in the North leaned down and kissed her cheek one last time, whispering something to her that no one could hear. He looked at her one final time, trying to ingrain the image of her face into his brain; remembering her beauty.

Lyanna knew that they had exchanged vows stating they would love one another from the day they wed until the end of their days. Her mother had done that. There wasn't a day that past where she wasn't deeply in love with her husband.

In her heart, Lyanna also knew that her father would love her mother until his last day. There would never be anyone one else, and he would live the rest of his days in agony and pain from the loss of not only his Queen and partner, but his best friend.

As her father lit the pyre and the flames caught, tears welled in his eyes. She could see from the expression on his face as he watched her body light afire that he was thinking of the last several decades they had spent together.

She could see he thought of every soft word, gentle touch, and intimate moment. He dwelled on the sweetness of kisses, and the brushing of fingers, and the expressions of love. He thought of waking up with her and kissing her goodnight. The screams of anger, the whispers of affections, and all the silences in between.

People didn't have to know Robb well to know he loved his wife. As he watched her body burn, the flames swallowing her whole, he had to look away. He wanted to remember the good memories. He wanted to remember how she looked on their wedding day, or the day she brought his children into the world. He wanted to remember how her brow creased when she was angry, or the small smile she would give him in the moments they were alone together.

All Robb wanted was to think of every kiss, touch, whisper. Every peck on the mouth, or hungry, desperate capture of lips. He wanted to remember the way he said his name, and they look of adoration she often gave him. Each loving smile meant more to him than a thousand gold pieces. Every word of encouragement had the warmth of a thousand suns. Her telling him "I love you" could make his heart beat almost out of his chest. He wanted to think of her way her hair looked in the wind, or the tiredness that reflected in her eyes as they fluttered open in the morning. The way she had a furrowed brow as she immersed in her book would drive him insane, and all he wanted to do was tear the book away and kiss her madly. He longed to recall the gentleness in her voice as she sang to their children, or the melodic sound of happiness that rang out every time she laughed. She was his sun and stars, his everything. He loved her more than life itself.

Robb would hold every moment of their love deep in his heart. And as he gained enough strength to look at her body that was ablaze one last time, a single tear fell and he turned away and walked back into the keep; unable to watch for even a moment longer.

Every single year of happiness went through his brain in those few moments. Every single kiss, look, touch, word, gesture, and profession of love would haunt him until the end of his days. And what Lyanna saw was a broken man, devastated from the loss of the love of his life.

When she had visited him in his study a few hours later, he was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, crying softly.

"I was thinking of the first time I saw her." He tried to explain, lost in his thoughts as Lyanna sat down in front of him. His voice caught as he tried to express what he was feeling. "When she was burning… I couldn't stand to see her like that. So I thought of the first time I saw her," He tried his best to keep his voice even without it shaking. "When she emerged from the carriage my heart stopped. She looked like sunshine on a winter day."

He choked again, his hands shaking as he held a piece of paper. "She left me a letter. That damn woman," He scoffed and tried to roll his eyes, "Still causing me grief even after she's gone." He tried to laugh, but couldn't from the pain. "Gods, I fucking miss her. I miss her so, so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to live without her, Lya."

Lyanna didn't ask what the letter had said. It was meant for him, and she would cause her father the pain to recite it. But when she went into her chambers later that night, she had noticed that there was a letter on her bed also. It had been addressed to her in her mother's hand, and clearly was to be delivered to her by Maester Sam following the case of her death.

Lyanna had wept as she read the words. She hated herself for letting her relationship with her mother had been so strained. She never realized that the things she did for her was out of love, and she wanted her to grow to be stronger than she was. She had described that she had never known love at first sight until she saw Lyanna. She was her flesh and blood, and no treasure would ever be more precious to her than Lyanna. She wrote of the pain she experienced birthing her, and how she felt as though she hadn't truly lived until she was her mother. She wrote of the greatest fear she had ever experienced wasn't from the Red Wedding, but from of Lyanna never knowing how much she truly loved her.

Everything I had done to survive, and live. All the pain I experienced. All the troubles and trials, and every amount of agony, and suffering. All the people I killed, or outsmarted, or defeated, all the keeps I burnt, and the sins I committed... All the nights of sobbing, and feeling lonely, and wondering if I was good enough. All that I overcame and all I strived to be, having to eventually kill who I was to be who I needed to be… It was for you. My greatest, and truest love.

My proudest accomplishment will never be being the Queen of the North. It was being your mother.

Lyanna broke down and sobbed after reading the last paragraph of the letter. She whispered for nothing more than for her mother to still be there, so she could have had her hair stroked by her once more, and have her whisper goodnight in her ear one final time as she fell asleep.

After seeing Tyrion, Lyanna knew her mother had left him a similar letter after seeing the tears in his eyes. And when she visited the crypt, to see where the empty space of where they would eventually lay her mother's body to rest. She saw there was a letter resting on Rickon's statue as well. A letter that would never be read, but was filled with things her mother wished she could have told her youngest child.

When Lyanna thought she couldn't handle any more heartbreak, five days after her mother's funeral, she strode into her father's study. He had barely slept, eaten, or drank anything since her passing and she wanted to check on him.

She found him face first on his desk, having passed away in the night.

Measter Sam couldn't determine the cause, and he ruled it out as a broken heart.

All the family Lyanna had left was her husband Aldric, and Tyrion. After his death was announced, the bells of Winterfell rang yet again. This time, for the King in the North. Wolves in the Godswood howled, signaling the loss of a Stark.

Her father's funeral was no easier than her mother's and Lyanna did not believe she could handle any more pain. The loss of both her parents was too much to bare, but at least now they were now together in the afterlife.

Like her mother's funeral, her father's also took place in the Godswood. The lord's that had been there a few days prior we're back again, this time to say goodbye to their King and coronate Tyrion.

So much pain had happened in the last few days, and Lyanna found herself missing her parents. That's how she ended up the crypts.

She had her mother's crinkled up letter that she had addressed to her father in her hand. Yet again, she hadn't read it, but she had accidentally glanced at the last sentence at the bottom, which read From the day I met you until the end of my days, I have loved you.

It caused Lyanna to well up in tears. And when she had finally reached her parent's resting place, she realized that the stone mason had finished their statues that would mark where they laid. She placed the letter in front of her father's statue, figuring he would want it there.

Tyrion was there, and they stood there together, looking at the depictions of her parents. The parents that had taught them love, bravery, kindness, and strength.

Unlike the other statues in the crypt, which were stoic and standing upright, grasping swords or roses depending on their gender, her parent's ones were different.

King Robb and Queen Iseis were side by side, kneeling facing forward, their hands would rest there together for all of eternity. Starks of future generations would be able to not only see their strength, but also their love. After all, they had always been better together.

On the little tablet that marked their places in stone in front of their statues, there was an inscription of small words. It had a strong and powerful statement, and it would remain there for eons.

Here Rests the King and Queen in the North.

They would never be apart from one another ever again.

Thank you once again, dear readers.

If you enjoyed this story/my writing (which I assume you did if you're still here after four years lol), please check out my new story. It's not a GOT, but it is a Captain America one (Bucky/OC) and I am remarkably proud of it. If you liked my work so far, I'm hoping you'll also enjoy that one as well. In my opinion, it surpasses Ruined stylistically and plot-wise and I think you'll like it. I also have another Robb/OC fic, so check it out.

Thank you, thank you, thank you again. You all are wonderful, and without you, this story would have never progressed so far.

Amelia