Black Sheep.

FLARES.

I own nothing but my OCS! Enjoy 😊

Did you lose what want return? The fire is out but still it burns but no ones there cause no one cares.

Astoria woke to the pressure of a smaller hand wiggling inside of her own, her indigo eyes welcomed a friendly sight.

"Toria!" Rickon squeaked with a gapped tooth grin, she noticed he had lose a few more baby teeth during her slumber.

She smiled at him, "I told you forever and always." She says trying to lift her hand to run her fingers through his caramel colored curls.

Yet she found her strength failed her as tried this small act, and as if he knew Rickon crawled into her bed.

"You were gone for so long." His grey eyes pleaded with her, but within them she could see a spark of hope.

"But I am here," She bopped him on the nose, "As are you my little wolf."

"Never leave me again. I only have you and Bran." His pudgy fingers intertwine within in her bony ones.

"You have your mother, father, sisters and brothers- you have a family. I assure you, I will not let your family leave you." She conjures an air of conviction in her words solely for him.

"I do not think peace lasts long for winter is-"

Little Rickon is cut off by Bran, on top of Hordor's shoulders and Maester Luwin.

"You have recovered!" Bran's usually somber tone melts into a warm one, of that she is glad.

"I had to come back to my boys." She gives him a smile and Rickon a kiss on his head.

Rickon chimes in, "Told ya Bran, Toria never leaves!"

Bran laughs, "You have one, shall we celebrate with a treat?"

Maester Luwin shouts as the two boys and Horder leave the room, "Do not terrorize the kitchen staff!" But as always his words fall on deaf ears.

"How long did I slumber?" Astoria asks with a harder gaze, her grief now sinking into the pit of her stomach.

"Three moons."

"My baby? Where is she?"

He sighs, "In the crypt with those who will be company for her."

"A Targeryen hybrid among dead Starks." Astoria muses.

He does not answer and Astoria cannot leave her child down there for the ritual must be done. A new life waited in the ashes of the old.

"The King-"

"You mean my dear cousin, Jeoffrey?" She says her dark hair contrasting with the white of the pillows.

"I am afraid not, but your husband-"

She cuts him off, "Robb is no King."

"While you were sleeping the men crowned him the King in the North."

"And I suppose he took his whore as his Queen? I am sure he thought I would not wake from this eternal sleep." She said through gritted teeth.

Maester Luwin does not answer and that seems to be all the confirmation she needs.

Once again, she must depend on her Lannister relatives for help as it seems only Lions can love Lions.

"I wish a raven be sent to my Grandfather, now."

"But, my Lady."

"I am your Queen, no matter what Robb does in course of battle with my family. And I shall inform my grandfather that I have returned to the world of the living, as I know he and the rest of my family are alight with concern, unlike my husband."

He bows, "Of course, a raven will
be sent."

"And I want my child's body." Astoria has not moved from her position among her throne of plush pillows.

"But that among the gods to exhume a crypt, and of a child of such nobility a sin."

"Maybe to your Old Gods, but to a mother whose only wish is to see her child brings great comfort." She looks him square in the eyes, "Would you deny me that?"

"No, Your Grace." He says sheepishly.

"Go, then. You have much to do."

Her indigo eyes shimmered in the dancing moonlight as the funeral pyre burned brightly, she could feel the warmth against her face. The warmth of a thousand suns washing away such a sorrow of losing a child, but the ache never left.

Then the fire died out leaving the ashes of her child, Cora, named for her mother. And the burnt shells of the dragon eggs gifted to her.

She stood there against the bitter chill of the icy winds rubbing her cheeks raw, her feet sinking in the sludge of the snow, deeper and deeper until the hem of her gown and cloak fully emerged into the snow laden ground.

Then against the moonlight washing over Winterfell- a palace that now seemed like a prison. The shells that she banged against the hardest stone began to hatch as if their consistency was bay of chicken eggs and from those three eggs seven pairs of yellow eyes looked back at her and she smiled as sunk to her knees on the ground and the creatures began to flock to her. She was a mother, once more, thought even in Cora's death she never stopped thinking of her, who she would of been.

"A life of something you love most in all the world must be given for you to see that with great sorrow comes great responsibility, use your powers wisely and never forget who you are."