Game of Thrones: Winter's Fire

Arianne Stark

Winterfell was still in mourning. That much was abundantly clear. From the way the people within the castle and the way the smallfolk of the Winter Town carried themselves it was clear that Winterfell was in mourning over the death of one of their favourite sons. Daemon Blackfyre had been slain on a field far away from the north and from Winterfell, he had not set foot in Winterfell before his rebellion had begun, and yet the north still mourned his passing. From what her good sisters had told he, when Willam Stark had returned from the south all those years ago with a Targaryen princess for a bride, and had come with her bastard son, there had been those who had been sceptical of whether a dragon could adapt to the north and its ways. Her good mother had proved the sceptics wrong, and was seen with much respect and admiration. Daemon Blackfyre had spent the first twelve years of his life in Winterfell, growing up and learning the lessons needed to be a lord with Arianne's own husband Daeron. The two of them had been as thick as thieves; she had seen how close the two of them had been when they had all been in King's Landing. The people of Winterfell as well as her good sisters had spent the past year since her husband had been away at war recounting the tales of Daeron and Daemon as children, and the pranks they had played and each time they spoke of the two of them, it was with nothing but love and respect and pride that filled their voices.

Yes Winterfell was still in mourning, her good mother especially. Lady Daena Stark, was someone Arianne had grown up hearing tales about from her husband, Daeron idolised his mother and loved her deeply. Arianne had seen why when she had arrived at Winterfell, her good mother was so strong and so confident that it was no surprise to her that she had managed to survive all those years in the Maidenvault, and she knew then where Daeron had gotten his strength and confidence from. News of Daemon's death had shaken her good mother, Lady Daena was no longer as outgoing as she had been before the rebellion, in fact it seemed as if she had become more introverted and more of a husk of the woman she had been before her sons had marched for war. Arianne was worried about her good mother.

Her husband had returned two days after Winterfell had learnt of the death of one of their favourite sons. He comes home not as a lord of the north, but as its king, proclaimed on the Isle of Faces, the last place in the south with a weirwood tree, the place where the Children of the Forest once stood watch over their own children. He comes back home to her and their family a changed man. Yes he still smiles but his smiles are occasional now, his eyes are wearier than they were before the war, his actions and words are more guarded now than they were before. He is much more withdrawn than he was before. And it worries her that he may not be able to love in the same way as he was before the war.

It takes three weeks before she manages to pluck up the courage to ask her husband what happened to him during the war. She had meant to ask sooner and help him in any way she could, but with the lords of the north still in Winterfell, seemingly waiting for something, anything to happen, there had not been a moment where she had been free to express her heart to her husband, her king. But one day, once he is done with yet another round of meetings and discussions for the future of the north, he comes back to their shared rooms- they had always shared rooms before the war, with their son, their Aegor in a cot near the bed- he sits down and sighs heavily.

"I know I have not been the best husband or father as of late my love." She hears Daeron say, pain and exhaustion mingling together. She goes to say something reassuring and yet Daeron raises one finger and silences her, he turns to face her and in his violet eyes she sees pain and sorrow. "Mother made a startling revelation today. It turns out she gave father the old crown of the Kings of Winter before he left for King's Landing all those years ago. Mikken is making a crown for you as we speak; we are to be crowned tomorrow."

She does not know what to say to that, and so she lets silence settle between them before Daeron speaks again. "Horras Bolton will be planning a rebellion at some point, I know he will, I can feel it. The man was supposed to marry my aunt Jeyne before she married uncle Quellon, did you know that? The mad fool would have had a claim to Winterfell. He has been following my ideas and suggestions like a cat in water since the war ended. I can feel something is about to happen in the north I just don't know what."

"Have someone keep an eye on him Daeron. Could you not do that you are king now?" Arianne asks.

Daeron sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. "I wish I could, but if I do that I will make Lord Horras suspicious, and that would further ignite the flames for a rebellion. No I will bide my time, I'll have scouts ride around the lands surrounding the Dreadfort and feed reports back to me."

Arianne knows that cannot be all that is troubling her husband, but she has learnt since their time together in King's Landing that it is best to let Daeron speak first before asking anymore questions. And as such she is proved right. "Aemon Blackfyre, my nephew will be coming to Winterfell very soon. He managed to escape Bloodraven and Maekar, and fled the battle with Addam Osgrey and the Ambrose brothers as well as Ser Costayne. They are currently in Moat Cailin for the time being, but once we are crowned they shall be coming to stay with us at Winterfell. "He pauses for a moment, and Arianne can sense that the thing that has been bothering her husband since he came back from the south is about to be revealed she waits with baited breath. " War will come to Westeros once more, for as long as Bittersteel and Bloodraven and Aemon live, war will engulf Westeros, and I will have to give the north's support to each and every single Blackfyre rebellion, because I promised Daemon that I would."

Arianne feels her throat constrict and feels her chest tighten at her husband's words, but she remains silent.

Daeron goes on. "I should have marched straight to Redgrass, Harrenhal was a pointless endeavour. Lord Lothston is a coward and a turncloak; he was not worth spending time at Harrenhal. I should have marched from Riverrun straight to Daemon's forces. Then we would not have to worry about more war, and then Daemon would be sitting where he should be, on the Iron Throne and Daeron Targaryen and his line would be rotting in the ground. I should have listened to Cregan, not to uncle Artos."

The sadness and pain that Arianne heard in her husband's voice made her heart ache for him, and she leaned over in bed to grasp his hands which were shaking. She gave them a tight squeeze before saying. "It was not your fault that Daemon died my love, you could not have known that Bloodraven would resort to treacherous tactics to kill him, or that the men sworn to Daemon would break once he was dead. It is not your fault my love." She squeezes his hands once more and then pulls him down to sit next to her on their bed, she can feel his hands still shaking in hers, his head comes to rest on her shoulder, and she can feel the steady drops of tears falling onto her night shift.

She hears Daeron take a deep shuddering breath before he asks, "So why do I feel like I am responsible for the failure of my brother's dream. Why do I feel like I have failed all of you?" More tears begin to fall from her husband's eyes onto her night shift and Arianne takes one of her hands away from his to stroke his hair, and murmurs softly that he has not failed any of them, that he had done them all so proud. They fall asleep in each other's arms for the first time since Daeron came back from the south that night.

Morning dawned bright and early the next day, and soon husband and wife parted for their respective duties before the coronation began. Daeron left for more discussions with his lords bannermen about this and that, Arianne had to go and see that there was enough food left stocked in the kitchens and that there was enough supply to see them through the remaining months of summer, after all the words of House Stark were Winter is Coming, and she could have sworn there was a slight chill in the air today of all days.

Once she had made sure everything was in order, she returned to her chambers and got ready for the coronation. Deciding to wear a simple dress of grey and white, with the direwolf brooch of her husband's house keeping her scarf in place. A few moments after she had dismissed her handmaidens Daeron came and together they walked to the godswood where the coronation would be taking place. Strangely enough Arianne did not feel nervous, she knew that perhaps she should do, but all she felt was calm and collected, if this was what the gods wished for her and her family then this would be what would happen. She could feel Daeron's had shaking in hers, and so she squeezed it tightly to reassure him, and then when they reached the clearing in the godswood next to the heart tree, still holding hands they walked towards the thrones that had been put up for this special occasion, the northern lords were gathered around them.

Once she and Daeron were seated, she heard Artos Stark begin to speak in that deep iron voice of his. "Today we are gathered here, to fulfil an ancient promise made by the Starks of Winterfell. Since the Age of Heroes there has always been a Stark in Winterfell, whether as kings or as lords, the Starks have always ruled the north from Winterfell, and so they shall until time ends. Today we come to crown Daeron Stark and his wife Arianne, as the first king and queen of the North since Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Dragon. The dragons of the Targaryens are all dead now though, and the Targaryens on the throne do not have the rightful claim to the Iron Throne. And so the north will not stand by such injustice, we are a free and independent people as of this day. I take this crown of winter and do so declare Daeron Stark rightful King of the North, King of winter, and Lord Protector of the realm and Defender of the Old Gods. Do you accept?"

Daeron's hand still shook violently in hers but all he said was "Yes." And so Artos Stark, laid the crown of winter on her husband's head and then placed the newly forged crown on top of her head, and proclaimed her queen of winter. With that done the northern lords began to cheer and shout words as one in a thunderous voice, that made her shiver as if the old gods themselves were beginning to awaken from their slumber.

Much later, when Daeron held his first court meeting as King of the North, he asked for her to be present and so they sat side by side on thrones made of weirwood, Daeron on the ancient seat of the Starks, and Arianne on a newly made throne. Daeron's first announcement was to make his uncle Artos hand of the King as well as confirm his position as Lord of Moat Cailin and name him Defender of the Neck. Next he named Lord Harmond Umber Warden of the Northern Marches. Beron Stark of the Wolf's Den was named as Warden of the Narrow Sea and High Admiral of the recently completed northern fleet. Quellon Greyjoy who had come himself to Winterfell to witness his nephew's coronation, was formally accepted into the northern kingdom and was named Warden of the Sunset Sea. And Lord Sunderland the lord of the Three Sisters, seeking sanctuary from the wrath of the Targaryens, was accepted into the northern kingdom, and so Daeron became king of the north and the iron islands, with an increased naval presence, Arianne could almost hear the northern lords licking their teeth with anticipation at the thought.

The next move Daeron made was to announce the formation of a personal guard for the King and the royal family. Nine men based on the number of blades on the crown of winter, who would forswear all their inheritances when they join, they could not marry, and would hold no lands or titles. Their headquarters would be in the rebuilt first keep of Winterfell, and they would wear grey armour and have grey cloaks fixed to their armour. Daeron named his youngest brother Theon as the first lord commander of the Northern Kingsguard, whom he dubbed the Winter's Guard.

With that done, Daeron's next move as king was to order the changing of the royal family's sigil, for in his words though they were Direwolves, they were also dragons and needed to show the rest of Westeros as such. And so that was how on the day Aemon Blackfyre arrived in Winterfell with an escort of some twenty men, he came to find Winterfell showing not the traditional grey direwolf racing across a field of white, but of a grey dragon with its wings and teeth bared combatant with the grey direwolf on a field of ice white. The words of House Stark of Winterfell remained the same imposing words they had been for the past eight thousand years.

Two days after Aemon Blackfyre arrived; there came two letters from the south. One from Lord Frey at the Twins announcing regretfully that the betrothal between Daeron and her son Aegor and one of Frey's daughters would have to be broken, due to royal command. Though it was an insult to break the betrothal, none of Daeron or Artos or even Arianne truly minded much, for that would leave Aegor with the option of marrying whomever he wished. The next letter came from King's Landing, and it announced that Prince Maekar Targaryen and Lord Brynden Rivers would be coming north to Winterfell to discuss the ending of hostilities between Daeron the good and her Daeron, as well as discuss the release of Prince Baelor, who had been kept in a cell since Daeron had returned to Winterfell.

Delena Blackfyre

Her husband and her firstborn son were dead, slain by Brynden Rivers, Daeron the Good's master of whispers. She still had a hard time processing this information. From the reports they had received during the war, it had seemed almost inevitable that Daemon would win and would be sitting on the Iron Throne, but by some ill fortuned, by some sheer bad luck on her husband's part, he had been slain by his half brother and her Aegon had died with his father. The news had come on dark wings, writ in Aegor Rivers hand, the raven had torn her world upside down in a mere matter of hours she had gone from thinking that perhaps she might actually get to see her twins and her husband again, to worrying desperately about the fate of her second born son Aemon, and the fate of her remaining children.

Whilst she and Daemon had not exactly loved each other- there had been no possibility of that, what with his love for Daenaerys and her love for Mathis Tyrell- they had become fond of each other over the years, and so she did mourn his passing. She was more sad about the death of her first born, Aegon, he had been the jewel in her eyes and Daemon's, had Daemon been successful in his bid to take the Iron Throne, Aegon would have had the potential to be one of the best kings Westeros had ever seen, her boy was smart and caring, and liked learning and fighting. She supposed that was why Daemon had risen up in rebellion, after Aegor Rivers and Quentyn Ball had been whispering in his ear for so long, she did not know Baelor Breakspear all that well, but it seemed to her that perhaps Daemon was trying to get a better future for their children when he rebelled, and it seemed that the whisperings that his father had wanted him to be the king had if not gotten to him had converted him into trying to make his sons kings.

She knew that was why her father had risen in rebellion with Daemon. The chance that his grandson could be king was one that Lord Devan Strickland would not have passed up for the world. It would have given him unprecedented influence in Westeros let alone the Reach, and may have even presented the possibility of House Strickland being made Wardens of the South had Daemon been successful. But of course Daemon had not been successful, no her husband had been slain on Redgrass field, his life's blood adding to the tens of thousands of other men's blood that fed the hungry and parched fields where the two forces fought. And so her father had fled with his tail between his legs and had taken her and his remaining grandchildren across the narrow sea to Tyrosh where somehow Aegor had contacts.

Aegor had always been someone who had intimidated Delena, he was an angry and aggressive man, who it seemed only, took pleasure in two things, those being fighting and arguing. She remembered the countless arguments that Daemon and Aegor had had before the rebellion had begun, these arguments had usually centred around King Daeron II Targaryen, and whether or not he truly had the right claim to the throne, and that Daemon's father had actually named Daemon his true heir in his last will and testament. Such arguments often ended with Daemon saying that it was all well and good saying that his father had named him his true heir, but unless they actually had written proof with King Aegon IV's signature and seal on it, no one would ever believe them, and besides Daemon would argue, he did not want to be king.

Now, with Daemon and Aegon dead Aegor had gone into a tower of fury, he seemed to no longer live for the living and seemed determined to put Aemon on the throne by any means necessary. Such was his anger and fury that he had driven Delena- who was usually quite a peaceful and quiet person- to anger on numerous occasions, what with his constant talk of war and the Iron Throne. She had snapped at him that enough blood had been shed for that chair, and that she did not want her children dying and suffering for something that at the end of the day they may not even want. Aegor had given her such a cold look then, and in a tone filled with venom had said that she was lucky that she was Daemon's wife, otherwise he would have knocked her senseless for the words she had uttered. He had said, his voice rising in anger as he spoke, that so long as he still had breath in his body, he would try and try until he was successful to put one of Daemon's sons or grandsons on the Iron Throne, for it was theirs by right of blood, and that Daeron II Targaryen was nothing more than a bastard who had taken what was not his to take.

After that, she had done all she could to keep her children away from his corrosive influence. She was lucky in the sense that her Daemon favoured books more than swords, and that earnt him the scorn of Aegor, for the man had never had time for learned men or words, in fact Delena was quite surprised that he could even read, let alone write properly. With Aemon in Winterfell under his uncle Daeron Stark's protection, Delena had atleast some sort of hope that he would grow up to be a decent and honourable man, like his father and not his uncle Aegor. She did not however have as much luck with keeping Aegor's corrosive influence away from Haegon or Daeron. Bittersteel seemed to dote on them, even though Daemon had remarked multiple times how much Haegon reminded him of Prince Maekar as a child, Aegor seemed not to care and seemed to treat Haegon and Daeron as his own two sons rather than nephews, and as such they seemed to spared most of his anger, something that whilst in some small part she was grateful for, made Delena slightly angry.

She could tell Aegor was planning something, some great move to help Aemon gain the Iron Throne, but what it was she could not tell, all she could feel was that the cold winds were rising and that before there could be peace there would be more and more bloodshed, many more Redgrass fields would occur, and the realm would bleed, for the dance of dragons would go on and on till there was only one dragon left standing.