Author's Note: I hope you all enjoy my first story. Please read and review!
What does a mother do when her child doesn't cry? What does she do when such a small thing bundled up in many blankets, doesn't cry their little heart out like every other baby does when it is born? What does a mother do? Should her mind wander in circles, thinking with trepidation that this child might be different? That it was simply a child that does not cry after a few seconds after birth like the norm? It might be a quiet little thing or too obstinate to give out a scream. She'll sooner see the infant moving their little lips and watch their tiny, little fingers curl and uncurl.
Yet that wasn't happening.
"Why…" Her voice was laced with fear, completely breathless. It seemed almost painful for her to even speak with how constricting her throat felt from trying to choke back her cries. "Why isn't she crying?" Her question came out so softly despite how she was screaming it over and over again in her mind. "Why isn't she crying, Maester?!" She asked again, much more fervently, eyes gazing at this fragile thing with a tuft of curly black hair that had their eyes closed from the world. From her, most of all.
"My lady," His tone was cautious, trying not to rile her before she would become hysterical. She was nearing it, her hand kept gingerly rubbing the side of the baby's head. The motion was rushed, almost like she was trying to soothe the girl awake and was losing her patience by the minutes. "She was born six moons. It isn't unheard of, Lady Ashara, but I'm afraid it is likely she won't live."
"What do you mean it is likely she won't live, Warwyn?! She's alive now, she'll stay alive! She's going to wake up and I'm going to feed her. Love her." She hardly believed what she was saying because the screaming sobs that filled the room that was supposed to be her daughter's were her own. Ashara clutched the baby close to her, her body rocking back and forth as she couldn't find it in herself to separate herself from the quiet child.
The Maester and the midwivess and servants turned their heads, unable to see her in her pain. Ashara felt like her heart was being torn to shreds by the claws of a beast. She interrupted her crying to draw breath, just to continue the same raving tune. It wasn't fair, she kept telling herself. This was her firstborn, possibly the only child she would ever have and now she was gone. She was gone before she could even properly live.
Warwyn soon tried to pry the newborn out of her arms and Ashara gave a fight before giving in, reluctantly letting her go. Her arms wrapped around her middle, clutching herself as she tried to keep herself together as if she would simply fall apart into pieces. Warwyn gazed down at the baby, his own pain surfacing at the sight of the cryless girl. He would put her in the room that was meant to be her nursery and to see if any changes would come for the night. It might've been fruitless to think the little thing would be alive, but it was better than not trying and declare the newborn babe dead.
Allyria came rushing down the hall, her skirts lifted so that she didn't trip over them. Her run came to a slow jog to a fast walk when she approached Warwyn. Her eyes immediately went looking down at the bundle in his skinny arms. She slowly moved her head to look in the direction of Ashara's room, hearing her sister's cries echoing in the halls like a haunting silhouette. Hearing how loud and entwined with pain they were, she already assumed that the worse had happened.
"Will she survive the night?" She quietly asked, her expression grim. Warwyn hadn't said a word, just giving her an unsure look instead. "Lord Ned Stark is here. He says wants to see Ashara and he won't leave. He say he won't until he sees her."
"Then let him see her." Warwyn closed his eyes, releasing a sigh that he held in for quite a while. "Please, calm her. I can't do it. I must tend to the child."
Allyria glanced down at the baby, her fingers lightly ghosting over the thin, light eyebrows of the newborn. The child felt lukewarm, not warm of life but neither cold of death. It was in the realm of in between, and whether it could escape that realm and come back to the world of the living was entirely up to the Gods now.
"Such a beautiful thing she is." Her lips pursed to coo, feeling despondent since the child couldn't see or react to it. "Who does she remind you of?"
"Her mother," Warwyn answered without thought, "Ashara looked the same as a babe when she was born." He sounded warm, filled with nostalgia of years ago. "Except this one is so much smaller than Ashara I should say. You sister was a small and petite thing too, but her? I fear just holding this one."
Allyria chuckled at the thought, "I suppose the girl is such a small thing since she made Ashara regret everything feasted herself to." The both of them laughed, smiling while trying to keep the air rather light. The both of them wanted to be happy, but Ashara's cries that filled the hall and reminded them why happiness wasn't welcomed now.
"Maester," Allyria bowed her head to signal her leave, "I'll go to Ashara now." Her eyes rested on the child, giving her a sweet, sorrow look before walking down the hall to meet her grieving sister.
Warwyn adjusted his arm, fixing the blanket around the babe as he hurried himself towards the nursery. He was sure that Ned Stark meeting Ashara like this wouldn't be good for her, especially since she knew her child was not long for life. What did he come for anyway? Something told him that nothing good was coming out of this. If he didn't have to tend the babe, he would've kept a watchful eye to make sure Lord Stark didn't have Ashara spiraling deeper in her sadness than she already was.
EDDARD
It brought him no joy to be here. How could he feel any sort of joy? Carrying this sword, Dawn, at his hip just to rightfully give it to the family of one of the most brilliant and fearsome knight that he had ever known. The same knight that he had to kill upon the risk of saving his precious and only sister, and what had been the result? Pain. A rather endless sort of suffering he'd carry with him for the rest of his life. And now he would have to endure Ashara, learning of her brother's death as he placed his sword in her hands as it belonged to none other than the Daynes.
Ashara was something to him once; a friend or first love, something in between, just maybe. His once young heart could never quite figure it out, but he owed it to her to be there and be the one to explain. Then he would ride off to Winterfell, bringing back his newborn little boy to explain to Catelyn. Just that alone could ruin them forever. It was something that she would, undoubtedly, never truly accept. It was the risk that he was willing to take despite what it could cost him.
As he walked down the halls, he heard nothing. It was completely silent. Not only was it silent here in Starfall, but it had been unimaginably cold. It felt colder than Winter's bone-freezing winds, which seemed so strange to him since Ned never expected to feel such a thing in a humid place such as Dorne. The halls also felt lifeless as if he was the only one in the castle. It wasn't true, however, he had seen plenty of people, but all of them had looked so grim. All of them wore faces as if they already knew Ser Arthur was dead. It had to be something else yet Ned couldn't quite put his finger on it.
When the servant brought him a step closer to Ashara's room, his ears picked up the sound of sorrowful weeping. His feet nearly stopped, making him just about too cowardly to move. What had brought such a lively girl as Ashara to tears? She hadn't known about Arthur just yet, so what could it have been? What had gone on in Starfall? The servant told him nothing, choosing silence and obeying orders in stead. Ned wasn't one to be too persistent unless he need to be and he was starting to feel the need now.
Quietly, the servant slipped through a small crack of the door and closed it behind them. The newly Lord of Winterfell could hear muffled conversation until he heard Ashara's sweet voice say "let him in." She sounded so tired, so pained, so… broken. The girl who danced and smiled? He never imagined she could ever be brought to such a low point. How could he stomach to tell her about Arthur now? Could her heart handle such a news?
When the door opened for him, fully, Ned took slow steps inside to see Ashara sitting in a chair by the window. Her curly, black hair was, for right now, a wild mane that looked as if she had been running like mad against the wind. Her eyes, gorgeous and violet that could hold any man with a single stare, were red and shining with tears. She looked as if she never had reason to smile in her life before right now, and Ned had no idea why.
"You've come at such a terrible time, Ned." She said to him, her voice filling his ears in that gentle way that he remembered during their time in Harrenhal. Ashara had such a soft voice, a lulling voice. It entranced all who spoke to her just like her eyes did. "Look at me…" Her hands quickly moved to wipe her tearing eyes, "a mess." There should've been a smile there and yet there was none. "I hate that you have to witness me in such a state."
"Ashara," He spoke her name, his voice nearly quavering in his lack of will, "I've come to tell you news I think you should know firsthand."
Her eyes kept staring out the window in the direction of the Torrentine river as if it was the only thing her eyes ever wanted to see. "What is it that brings you all the way to Dorne to see me, Ned? Is the war done? Have you come to tell me that?"
His grey eyes lowered, unable to look at her much more. He could barely stomach the words that left him, "I've come to bring you Arthur's sword… Your brother is…"
"Dead." Ashara finished the sentence for him and he heard her voice break as soon as she did. Her eyes welled up with brand new tears and she shook her head, her fist hammering against her chest as if to reduce the pain it must've felt. "Gods! Arden and now Arthur… How the gods be so cruel! Where is the Mother when I needed her?"
Arden? Ned never heard of Arden Dayne before and it left him puzzled. However, he knew it best to bring her the sword and so he removed it from his sword belt and knelt down on one knee, holding it out to her. "I am so sorry, Ashara. I… He was protecting Rhaegar Targaryen and this war… You know what it cost me. You know that I had to…"
"You…" Keeping his down, his eyes refused to look at her. He just couldn't find it in himself to raise his head. "You killed Arthur?" She sounded so shock, so hurt. "You murdered my brother?"
His heart couldn't bare to gaze upon her, now but his honor forced his eyes to lift up to meet her own and give her a gentle nod in answer. Ashara was a whole torrent of emotions: she was angry, she was sad, she was confused, and she was lost. Yes, Ashara was lost most of all and Ned knew that her wails was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Sleep after this war was going to be the most difficult of things he ever done, but Ned knew he owed her this. This explanation. This truth.
"Leave me." Her voice was as sharp as a Dawn's blade and he felt it pierce his flesh, right through his heart. "Leave me now!" Her voice grew higher in her rage and Ned found himself on his feet before he knew it.
Not wanting her to bring her any more pain, Ned silently bowed his head and got himself to his feet. He would leave, heart heavy and wounded with another cut so deep, but he would leave her. He would let her deal with this mourning because who possibly would want comforting words by the man who put a blade in the person they love? Their family most of all. Eddard left her room and just like her eyes, her crying irises of purple was haunting him right now. Even though he was taking several paces away from the room, even going down a flight of stairs, her wails sounded like they were being done right next to his ear. In the midst of her cries, he could hear Lyanna's voice: "Promise me, Ned. Promise me." It all made him feel like collapsing to the floor to finally shed his own grief that he had been holding, but he could not do that. He hadn't deserved that sort of peace, especially not now.
The corners of his eyes caught the sight of a door being opened, a Maester exiting the room with his head down. His eyes only stared at the floor as if they were much too pained and heavy to lift up and gaze at anything else. "Maester." Ned called the man, who immediately turned to look at him. "I beg of you to go to Ashara's side now. She is filled with much grief."
The white-haired man narrowed his eyes some, "And what brings my lady's grief? What have you told her Lord Stark? What have you come to Starfall for?"
"I came to bring news of Ser Arthur Dayne, Maester." The old man stiffened upon that, his eyes widening in shock. "He is dead and I've returned his sword, Dawn, because this is where it rightfully should be."
"Gods, no." Shaking his head, the Maester closed his eyes. "If I had known you've come all this way to tell her this, I would have denied you, Lord Stark. I would've made you turn around and never step foot in Starfall."
"She has the right to know." Ned urged, "That was her brother, she loved him. She needed to know."
"It is not about rights and loved, my lord." said the Maester, "Ashara has just about lost her child, she shan't hear anymore news of death. Not today."
Ned's whole world became so still that he thought he wasn't breathing. The wound in his heart grew deeper, bringing more of a sting as his eyes lowered in disbelief to the floor. She lost a child? He hadn't even known she was with child at all and now this child was not of this world like Arthur. Why did no one tell him? He would've kept the news from her until she was of proper mind to hear it and now it was too late. He should've known something was wrong, she was crying before he even saw her and now this?
The man went running, possibly to go see Ashara now. Ned worried for her, but his curiosity towards the open door of the nursery captured his attention. He could see the crib from here. His feet moved when his heart and head did not give the order. Ned did not need to torture himself with more guilt and regrets, but he had to see it. He had to see one of the many wrongs he committed since the start of this rebellion.
Inside this bassinet of white was the tiniest thing he ever saw in his life. The baby was smaller than Jon also had a little less hair than the boy did and yet this baby was still so beautiful to him. The baby's chest only moved slightly, barely letting someone able to decipher if it was breathing or not. Ned didn't know what it was about children that made them so easy to move his heart. His knuckles went to brush the baby's brow, wishing that Ashara didn't have to suffer like this. She deserved better. She deserved much more than all this heartache.
CATELYN
It had been an entire year since she last saw her lord husband. Catelyn was made to remain in Riverrun with her first and only child. Her little boy named Robb. She would sit by the window, wondering if Ned would return just like she used to wait for her father. Men often times did not come back from wars and yet she had a feeling that Ned would. Something in her gut had told her so.
Her husband had not earned her love yet, at least not fully. She loved him little for blessing her with her auburn-haired boy, but she still did not know much of him to love him completely. She didn't get the time to talk much to the solemn and Quiet Wolf for he had a war to go running off to fight in.
Her eyes slowly down gazed to the boy in her lap, who was only of one year now. It seemed so strange how her red-faced boy had grown so much. He was growing in so many ways and his father had not seen any of it. Would Robb know Ned? She would sometimes wonder. How could the boy know his father when his father was such a stranger to him? Her hands gingerly rubbed the side of his head, the boy was sleeping so peacefully with no care in the world. Catelyn then caught sight of banners fluttering in the wind and she immediately held her boy close to her chest while rising to her feet.
'It's Ned…'
Catelyn was surprised, unsure even. She would greet him with their son, the son he didn't know he had for a whole year. This son he could've almost never met had he fallen in battle. What would Ned say? To his first boy, his first child. Would the Quiet Wolf smile and say some words that would make her heart flutter? Would her boy know of a whole family unlike she did? Servants came to tell her news that she was already well aware of and she made sure to dress Robb in his better clothes and that she was presentable.
By the time all was well and done, Catelyn made her way to the courtyard of her Tully home, where she would see her husband for the first time since their wedding. Her father stood beside her and so did her little brother, Edmure, and her uncle, Brynden. All of them gathered rightfully so and when she saw Ned climb down his horse, she smiled so softly to him.
"You have returned, whole and well, my husband." She had been grateful of that. The Seven answered her prayers to bring him back alive and greatly unharmed. "I present to you, your son, Robb Stark." Her lord husband seemed so surprised at her announcement, but his eyes look to their boy in what she deemed happy curiosity. Robb had awoken by then, annoyed by the noise and giving out disgruntled sounds to show he hadn't liked it. He was a brash baby, which she couldn't help but to adore.
"My son?" Ned questioned so in disbelief, raising the boy so that he could get a proper look at his face. Catelyn gave him a nod confirming it all while also wondering if she should clarify that he had been a honeymoon child. He seemed to have understand, his smile proved it. "My son." He repeated, this time without question.
"He appears to have my look… The Tully look." That had worried her since she was sure he wanted his children to have the Stark look. For him to be the first boy and have nearly all of her and only pieces of him, she wondered if that would leave him dissatisfied.
Her husband kept his rare smile. "There's nothing wrong with that." His words relieved her and made her heart flutter, just a little. Her smile was much warmer now that she felt the weight leaving her shoulders some. "But there is something I must speak to you about before we leave for Winterfell, Catelyn." She wasn't sure why he sounded so serious and she was neither sure why she felt as if she wasn't going to like this news.
After all the greetings and her firm words of letting her husband retire after his long travels, the both of them were finally able to be alone in the bedchamber they once shared for a night. Ned told her she should sit for it, frightening her, as he stood by the window with his his head slightly low. What could he possibly tell her to garner such actions? She held her patience to high regard for herself right then as she waited.
"I've brought back with me a son." Her heart dropped. Her eyes were bigger than a prayer wheel for the Seven as he just unloaded that truth on her. Catelyn was furious, for many reasons. He broken his vow and slept with another woman while married to him. He brought back a bastard. "And he will live with us. I will not abandon him." Now he was telling her that this child was made to live with them. It was rarely heard of, but most importantly, it was a slap in the face. How could he bring such embarrassment to her? Had she deserved this? What had she done to make him think something like this had been acceptable?
"How dare you?!" Catelyn found her voice after her state of shock, "How dare you bring back a bastard?! How dare you expect for me to be accepting of it living with us?!" It. He told her it was a boy, but it had been an it to her. It was something she did not want to acknowledge nor accept. It was a potential danger to her children and her grandchildren; both in life and rights. What if this baseborn child wanted Winterfell one day? What was she to do to stop it?
"He is my blood. Whether you accept it or not doesn't matter." He was so cold. His voice held an edge and his eyes were narrowed like the tip of an arrowhead. That meant he would not argue nor would he accept her refusal. What did she have to do? Did she have to beg? Did she have to cry to see how hurtful this all was? "And I brought another bastard." No, she refused it all even more now. She could not allow it. Not only was there one, but two? How many women did this so-called honorable Ned Stark bed? Was she that such a horrible of a wife that he kept seeking out other women? Did he truly hate the fact that he had to marry her? Had she made him hate her on their wedding night?
"But the child is not mine." That… relieved her. Some. Only some. Catelyn couldn't let out a sigh for she could barely remember how to properly breathe. "She is the daughter of Lady Ashara of House Dayne."
Catelyn remembered the Dayne name. She remembered that this was the girl that had been the lady-in-waiting for Princess Elia Martell. "And why would you bring another woman's bastard into our home? If she is not yours, what is she to you?"
"My responsibility." Her eyes watched him rub his face, a look of guilt plaguing him now. "I don't know who her father is and neither does anyone in Starfall, but her mother… Her mother jumped from a tower when I gave her back her brother's sword after admitting I killed him in battle. I could not… I had to do something. You may never accept my boy, but could you accept her? She deserves better. Let her be your ward and raise her in Winterfell. Let me right the wrongs I have done to her family."
His honor was besmirched with the bastard boy, and he was showing the glimpses of it she thought were lost for this little girl. Her heart did go out to this child, hearing of how she lost her mother, but she couldn't help but not to think it wise. "What if she blames you for their deaths and wishes to kill you when she is of age to understand? How can you think to raise this child while knowing this?"
"I'm not thinking of me, Catelyn, I'm thinking of Ashara… I owe her this." He wished to honor this woman before he honored her and that wounded her. Catelyn closed her eyes and wanted to refuse. She wanted to say no. This man deserved none of her mercy and neither did his horde of bastards. Her heart was soft, perhaps because it had been so weak duw to the pain. Whether she said yes or no, Catelyn believed neither mattered. The boy would stay with them without her say so, so why did he allow her voice to the second? Did he think the girl's terrible background would make her be forgiving? Perhaps because the baby was a girl, did he think that would make her want to raise it?
"We will keep the girl."