THE LITTLE RASCAL
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265 AC, Winterfell
Rosalie had one major problem in the moment and it was that she had no idea how to act like a real baby. Despite that her movements and speech had been that of a newborn when she was born she found herself getting ahold of herself faster than she thought was normal.
She, of course, couldn't remember a thing from when she was born the last time and had no idea how quickly children learned different things. How fast she could 'develop' without it being really weird,
Thinking back to when Rickon and Bran was born, since she had been old enough by them to actually remember it, she tried to recall major events. But it was hard and she was sure every child was different.
Like, when would it be normal for her to start sitting up. Some nights when she was bored she would try getting control over her limbs again by lifting her arms. After approximately one moon she had been managed to roll over which had shocked her parents greatly the next morning so she guessed she was a bit too fast on that one.
If she sat up to early it would certainly look weird and the same thing would happen if she suddenly started walking around. Thinking back Bran and Rickon started walking and sitting on their own when they were around one year. Maybe.
But that was a really, really long time ahead. Especially when you didn't do anything other than eating, pooping and sleeping all day and night. Maybe her younger brothers were just a little slow. Perhaps she could start sitting a little earlier and follow that up by walking when she was around 8 moons? Maybe earlier?
She considered what the worst thing that could happen was if she was a little faster in her development that the average baby and her conclusion was that her parents would see her as somewhat of a prodigy. And that wasn't too bad.
She knew that the lessons that would start when she grew older would be extremely easy for her because she had already done it before without any problems. Her mother had imprinted the proper etiquettes of a lady into her brain for years and her father had allowed her to practice swordplay along with her brothers. That had to give her an advantage.
Another thing she found herself struggling with was the screaming and crying part. Most babe's screamed and cried a lot but even she found herself to be annoying at times so she stayed quiet. The problem was that it led her parents to think she was sick so to avoid any further worry she tried to cry every time she was hungry, guessing that was what babe's did.
Being a baby was actually really difficult.
.•° ✿ °•.
265 AC, Winterfell
"Can you say 'Mama'?"
One thing no one in the whole known world had
been having troubles with before, except for her, was the dilemma of the first words.
Babies were too young and dumb to understand what they were actually saying which meant that they never had any troubles deciding what their first words was going to be. But of course Rosalie had to overthink this because she was no ordinary baby.
The problem with knowing that your parents and siblings were anticipating your first words was the anxiety of what to say. Because both her parents were pushing for her to say their name first. And she honestly didn't know which one to pick.
Some might say she was acting like a babe, but she had good reasons. Would the parents whose name she didn't say first be offended somehow? She was definitely overthinking it.
For a while she had considered saying 'Bran' or 'Ned', to avoid choosing between her parents, but suddenly she was choosing between her brothers. Normally she wasn't like this, but being left alone with your own thoughts this much wasn't good for a person.
"Why is she so quiet?" Brandon inquired, looking at her with curious grey eyes. He always seemed to be around her these days. Whenever he had a spare minute he would spend time with her and Ned.
Her father never really talked about any of his siblings, and neither did Uncle Benjen. The only thing she knew about Brandon Stark was that he was supposed to wed her mother, that he crushed Littlefinger in a duel for her hand, that he was much rasher than her father and that he had been killed by the Mad King alongside her grandfather.
"She is just a babe, Bran," Lyarra smiled at her eldest son, "It will take her some time to talk. Just like with Ned."
"What about walking?" Brandon asked impatiently. "She is a really fast crawler," he added in a matter of fact tone. He looked over at Rosalie who had started to crawl towards him, eager to move around now when she had the opportunity. Before they put her back in her cradle - which in her opinion should be called a prison for babes.
"All in due time, Brandon," Lyarra smiled gently at her son. "Perhaps you boys can try to help her stand?" she offered, looking at both her sons.
Taking the lead, Brandon sat up on his knees and assisted Rosalie in standing. Her legs felt wobbly and she honestly couldn't remember that standing and walking had been so difficult before. She knew perfectly well how to put one foot before the other and how to not fall over, but it didn't seem like her knew body did.
Had not Brandon allowed her to place her small hands in his, she probably would have fallen by now. With her eldest brother's assistance, Rosalie managed to turn around to face Ned instead.
"Come here, Rosie," Ned encouraged her, arms open. And she really wanted to walk to him because he was the only link she had to her past at the moment.
Most of the people she had loved had not even been born yet, some probably never would and the once that were alive lived on other sides of the realm.
And while it was weird that her father was now her older brother, at least he was still her family. In her past life, Rosalie's father had been one of the few people that always could make her feel safe, that could calm her down.
Releasing Brandon's hands she staggered over towards Ned who luckily was close enough to catch her before she fell. "She walked!" Brandon cheered. "Now we can show her the Godswood and the stables and the kennels-"
"And snow down, love," Lyarra smiled fondly at her eldest child. "One step at the time."
"See if she can walk back to me," Brandon told Ned who released Rosalie from the hug and helped her turn around again.
Once again, Rosalie concentrated on keeping her balance as she stumbled towards Brandon who also managed to catch and steady her before she could lose her balance.
"Soon she will be able to walk all around the castle," Bran said proudly. Rosalie couldn't help but think that Brandon reminded her of both Robb and Theon. He was protective like Robb but outgoing like Theon.
Brandon assisted her in sitting back down on the furs that had been laid out in the floor to make the floor more comfortable to sit on. While her mother chatted with her older brothers, Rosalie played with the wooden toys that she had been gifted. That was until she realised that one was absent.
It was a wolf carved out in wood. She recognised it because it was a toy that once had belonged to her older brothers meaning that it had been given to her in her past life as well. Only to have been lost when Winterfell was invaded by ironborns and later Boltons.
Her grey eyes scanned the furs for her wolf, but she could not find it. In an attempt to gain the others attention, Rosalie managed to string a few syllables together to say, "Wo-f."
Rosalie's mother and brothers all looked at her in shock, like they couldn't believe their own ears. But it wasn't the response Rosalie wanted so she tried to repeat herself, "Wo-lf."
"Did she say 'wolf'?" Brandon asked, eyes widened in shock.
"Wolf," Rosalie said again, this time even clearer.
What first word could ever be more fitting for a Wolf of Winterfell?
.•° ✿ °•.
"Lady Rosalie?"
"Rosalie, where are you?"
"Rosie, come out, my love."
At first Rosalie had thought about being a perfect babe and daughter. The kind of child that never cried or did something that would drive her parents mad. A babe that just silently reached every milestone before any normal child.
But she soon realised, what was the fun in that? So instead she had managed to become every parents worst nightmare. It wasn't that she would scream for long hours during the night when everyone else wanted to sleep. By now, she was pretty sure everyone would have preferred that.
No, Rosalie had found herself being the child that constantly escaped.
From the moment she learned to walk she had made it her mission to go on adventures around Winterfell. She was so bored in her own chambers that she would be left in for a majority of most days, so she walked around.
The only issue was that when a babe of almost two namedays left her rooms alone, people got worried. The first time her parents had actually thought she had been kidnapped and the whole castle had been in a frenzy. When they eventually found her she had been halfway to the Godswood.
Her parents had been so relieved that she was alive and the best thing was that there was no way for them to punish her. It wasn't like when she did something dumb as a ten year old and her mother would forbid her from playing with Robb for a fortnight. Babies didn't get punished like that.
Now everyone was used to her little adventures. Or at least they knew she hadn't been kidnapped. Half the castle would still be out looking for her when she decided to wander off, but everyone knew that she was hiding somewhere so despite their worry, no one was completely panicking.
It had almost become like a game of hide and seek, and to be honest it was hilarious. At least for her. She was sure the servants and her mother that desperately had to look for her every other day thought differently.
By now a guard was always posted outside her nursery door, but she always managed to find another way to escape. Once inside the nursery, escaping was near impossible, but whenever she was allowed outside it would take her minutes to find a way to vanish from sight.
And the perk of being a child of two namedays was that it was very easy to hide. A few moons ago she had successfully managed to crawl into an empty barrel of ale and the only reason she had eventually been found was that she had given up on hiding when she became hungry.
The disadvantage of her size however, was that Rosalie's legs were so short that it was near impossible for her to run away from anyone. The few times she had ventured towards the Godswood, she had been found almost immediately because she either grew tired or someone caught up with her.
Therefore she usually crept around in the castle. This time however, Rosalie found herself inside the kennels with her fathers hunting dogs. The fence was too tall for her to climb over, but the cracks were wide enough for her to climb through.
The hunting dogs were large, black beasts, or at least they looked like beats. But to Rosalie they were just large puppies and as she crawled through the cracks she was greeted by two of the dogs licking her on the face.
The remainder of the afternoon, she spent playing with the hounds and as the night fell over Winterfell, she found herself falling asleep in the hay next to the hounds, leaning against one of them. It reminded her of sleeping outside when she was travelling from the Twins to King's Landing.
That's where her father found her an hour later. The entire castle was in an absolute frenzy with guards and servants looking everywhere for the missing little lady. The only reason Rickard was in the kennels was that he hoped that the hunting dogs might be able to pick up her scent.
Needless to say that he was surprised to find his little girl curled up to the hounds that definitely could have shredded her to pieces with their teeth if they wanted to. Perhaps he needed to assign Rosalie a guard that would stay with her every hour of every day.
Rickard opened the gate to the cage and bent down to pick up his daughter. One of the hounds growled in warning but when it realised who it was, the hound went back to sleep.
Rosalie stirred when her father picked her up and tensed up at first, her fight of flight senses kicking in. Then her eyes fluttered open and she relaxed when she realised who it was. "Papa," she said tiredly.
"Sleep now, Rosie," Rickard told her, holding her gently so her head was leaned against her shoulder. "We will talk about this in the morning."
Rickard carried her towards the keep and made sure to inform the Captain of his Household that the little lady had been found, so he could call off the rescue party. Once inside her chamber, Rickard handed over Rosalie to Old Nan and with a parting kiss on the forehead he headed towards his own chambers.
"Did you find her?" Lyarra asked when he entered. It had been near impossible to force his wife to retire and allow him and their men to search for Rosalie, even though she was eight moons pregnant.
"Aye, I did," Rickard assured her. He walked over to sit down beside her, taking her hands in his. "She was sleeping beside my hounds in the kennels."
Lyarra's eyes widened in horror, "How in the name of the Old Gods did she even get there? And how did she manage to climb inside?"
"I've stopped asking 'how' when it comes to our daughter," Rickard chuckled. "Never before have I heard of or seen a more troublesome child. Or one more prone to escape."
"Her future husband will have his hands full with her," Lyarra chuckled, a fond smile on her face. Because despite how Rosalie would manage to give her grey hairs before she turned thirty, Lyarra absolutely adored her daughter.
"Hopefully, he won't be foolish enough to believe he can tame her," Rickard chuckled. Rosalie may only be two namedays old now, but for some reason he doubted she would ever lose her wild side - something he both feared and found slightly amusing. "It will only give him grey hairs."
"She is only two, Rickard. Still a babe," Lyarra pointed out. "She has at least twelve years to mature and considering all the lord who has written to you this far, asking for a betrothal, she won't have any troubles getting a husband."
.•° ✿ °•.
269 AC, Winterfell
Rosalie could clearly remember the death of her mother. Even after having died and being given a second chance, the images of her mother's death were one of those things she would never forget. The sound of her mother's pleads to spare her first born children from death would forever be seared into her brain.
It didn't help that Rosalie knew that Catelyn Tully were living a safe and happy life in Riverrun in the moment, because that did nothing to chase away her nightmares of that evening.
And having lost one mother already didn't prepare Rosalie for losing another one so soon. Lyarra Stark had died a moon after giving birth to Benjen due to complications during childbirth.
She had known that this would happen. Her own father had told her stories of how he lost his own mother at a young age, but for some reason Rosalie had forgotten that. Or maybe she had just hoped that her presence would change things.
She was a child still, so there was no way she could have helped or saved her mother from that faith, but it still hurt losing another mother figure, not knowing if you could have prevented it somehow.
The death of Lyarra Stark had also caused a change in the atmosphere inside Winterfell. Rickard Stark still cared for his children, but there was a hole in all of their hearts that their mother had left behind,
Rickard was still the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell, which left his children to take care of each other a lot. Brandon had begun his grooming to become the future Lord of Winterfell and Ned was also being tutored by their father. This left Rosalie to take care of her two younger siblings; Lyanna and Benjen.
Lyanna was a small girl of three years by now and was already proofing to be quite the handful, not that Rosalie had anything to say in that matter seeing as no one could beat her when it came to being an annoying child. When she looked at Lyanna, Rosalie couldn't believe that this was the girl who teared the kingdom apart for love.
For Rosalie, Lyanna Stark had always been more like a myth than a real person. Anyone that ever had met Lyanna Stark always told Rosalie how alike they were. It was a compliment - she knew that - but to be compared to the woman that was associated with so much suffering had always felt like more of a burden than a blessing.
Everyone had heard the tale of how Lyanna Staek had been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen and about the Tourney at Harrenhal where he had crowned her his Queen of Love and Beauty. But the more Rosalie heard about her Aunt Lyanna, the more confused she became about who the girl truly was. Her father had always compared his sister's free spirit to Arya, but what kind of woman who valued freedom above all would run away with the Crown Prince? For by doing so she willingly jumped into a golden cage she'd never be free from.
If there was one thing Rosalie was sure of in all the uncertainties that was her life right now, it was that she would have to keep Lyanna and Rhaegar far apart. Those two idiots had already broken up the Seven Kingdoms one time, she wouldn't allow them to do it again.
She just didn't know how. But for as long as the Dragon Prince stayed in the south and Lyanna remained in the North, all would be well.
While Lyanna was a puzzle to her, Benjen was exactly what she imagined him to be. He was still just a babe, but she felt a familiarity whenever she was in his presence. In a similar way to how she felt whenever she saw Ned.
She had been devastated when Jon told her that their Uncle Benjen had sacrificed himself to save him beyond the wall, but had been forced to push those feeling aside to focus on the upcoming war.
So much like with her father, or Ned as he was to her right now, she was glad to have gotten a second chance to spend time with them. But while she was happy that there were people she'd lost that she would get to see again, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
The siblings she had once known wouldn't even be born. Robb, her other half, didn't even exist and probably would never do so. Not if she didn't want the realm to bleed again like it had done the last time.
"Lady Rosalie," Maester Walys raised his voice slightly to get her attention, "Are you even paying attention?"
"No, not really," Rosalie shrugged, "But only because you insist on repeating things I have known since I could speak."
"That is no way for a Lady to speak," the Maester scolded her, his eyes narrowing in annoyance, "and I'm teaching you the things I think suits you abilities-"
"You are refusing to teach me anything valuable because I'm a girl," Rosalie snapped in frustration, "Had I been a boy you would have made my lessons more interesting by teaching me politics instead of House Starks lineage for the thousand time. I could probably ramble them in my sleep by now."
Rosalie had soon realised how frustrating it could be to be treated like a child all the time, even though she technically was a child. She was forced to take most of the lessons she had taken in her past life again which was utterly boring. The only good thing was that she at least didn't have a Septa.
For while Rosalie could enjoy some parts of being a Lady from time to time, she was much like Arya when it came to despising embroidery and all of those ladylike things Sansa loved so dearly. She much preferred riding and learning swordsmanship with her brothers. And she wasn't known as the best archer in the North for no reason.
"It's only proper for a Lady of House Stark to know-"
"And I've repeatedly showed you that I already know all of this," Rosalie interrupted him, knowing that her father would scold her for this later, "What are you teaching Brandon and Ned at the moment?"
"Your brothers will one day grow up to become men and therefor they require different lessons," Maester Walys told her like she was a fool for even suggesting it. By the Old Gods, she missed Maester Luwin.
Unlike Walys, Maester Luwin was a kind man that always encouraged her to learn more. He gave her the same education as he gave her brothers and always wore a kind smile. In a way, he was like a grandfather to her.
Maester Walys on the other hand was, much like Grand Maester Pycelle, a rat in disguise. She was sure he was the one who was swaying her father's mind and the root of his southern ambitions.
But who was she to stop him?
If there was one thing she had realised in her time alive this time was that the opinion of a five year old girl didn't matter much to anyone. In a way, she had been spoiled in her past life when it came to other people listening to her.
Her father had always allowed her to voice her opinion and to do what she wanted, which was why she was allowed to learn how to fight in the first place. Her brother had also valued her words of advice during his time as King and once she was Queen she had more freedom and influence than most women.
But here people were taken aback whenever she said something, both due to her age and her gender. It truly bothered her. Especially when she had a lot of the answers.
"I'm sure I shall understand most of it better than both of them anyways," Rosalie said, "Everyone says I'm very clever for my age."
"Politics is no place for a lady-"
"The only reason these rules exist is because men know that should they let women do the same things they do, they would no longer be able to refer to themselves as the better gender."
"I will have a word with your father concerning your attitude, young lady," Walys glared down at her, "This behaviour is completely unacceptable for a highborn lady."
"Let me know how that works out for you," Rosalie said, "But in the meantime you could spend your time teaching me something I don't already know. And if it turns out that you are right — and that I'm too dumb to understand it, you can teach me to properly hold a fork. Again."
People must truly believe me to be the most annoying child to ever walk these lands.
"Very well, you wish to talk about something other than your lineage. What can you tell me about the royal family?" Maester Walys said, looking at her in challenge.
"That's it?" she asked in disbelief before starting, "The Targaryens have ruled Westeros since they united the Seven Kingdoms, although Dorne remained independent until the marriage of Prince Maron Martell and Princess Daenerys Targaryen in 187 AC. The current King is Aerys of House Targaryen, the second of his name and he is wed to his sister, Queen Rhaella and together they have a son, Rhaegar, the Crown Prince and the Prince of Dragonstone. He is the future King of Westeros unless he manages to do something very dumb to lose his Throne. Only because I didn't want to discuss my own lineage, doesn't mean I want to discuss someone else's."
Maester Walys pursed his lip and narrowed his beady eyes at her. Had he not been a servant in her father's home she had no doubt he would have slapped her already.
Once he forged his chain, his secret father and his friends wasted no time dispatching him to Winterfell to fill Lord Rickard's ears with poisoned words as sweet as honey. The Tully marriage was his notion, never doubt it.
Maester Walys was the one that filled Rickard Stark's head with southern ambitions. Sure, it wasn't weird that a father tried to make the best alliances for his children, but for a Stark to make alliances with three other Great Houses was not without reason.
.•° ✿ °•.
270 AC Winterfell
In her previous life, Rosalie had been lucky enough to not be forced to watch her siblings leave their homes as children to foster elsewhere - but then her luck had ran out and they had all been separated and some even killed.
Rosalie had actually never truly understood the concept of noble children being fostered elsewhere, especially the heir. As an heir Brandon needed to learn how to manage a keep, but he would not learn what was needed of a Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North whilst living in Barrowton. Robb had never been fostered elsewhere because their father wanted to raise him personally.
But Rickard did not seem to have the same mindset because history was repeating itself, at least for Rosalie, when she found out that her older brothers would be sent away to foster; Brandon in Barrowton to be fostered by Lord Dustin while Ned would go to the Eyrie.
From what she had heard, Ned had truly enjoyed being fostered there in her past life. Her father had told her many stories of his time in the Vale with Robert Baratheon. Jon Arryn had become a second father to him during that time and she could clearly recall how sad he had been when he died.
But knowing that both her brothers would be fine did not mean that Rosalie wouldn't worry for them. And definitely not that she wouldn't miss them. 'When the snow fall and the white wind blows, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives' her father had once told her.
The last time her family had left Winterfell, half had never returned. Especially when they left and travelled south. The Starks were at their strongest when they were together, which had clearly been shown when the pack was divided after Ned was named Hand of the King.
For all Rosalie knew, her presence had changed in some way that put her brothers in danger. It had not changed enough to stop her father from getting the idea to foster them elsewhere, but luck had never really been on her side.
"Take care, little sister," Brandon pulled her into a hug. "You will be the eldest now."
"Bran, I'm the eldest in mind all the time," Rosalie deadpanned. "Just try to not burn down Barrowton. And behave."
"Try not to run away, little rascal," Brandon retorted, ruffling her hair that was pulled into a braid. "I don't think father's heart will be capable of handling it."
Rosalie just rolled her eyes and offered him one last hug before moving over to Ned, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Parting with him was even more difficult than with Brandon. Not that she didn't absolutely love her eldest brother, because she did.
But she had already lost Ned once. She knew exactly how it felt to hug him for the last time only to never see him again. Of course, this didn't feel the same as last time. The problem was that she never wanted to feel like that again. Seeing her father die had scarred her so deeply that it haunted her even in this life where he was alive. It was something she'd never forget.
Rosalie had a terrible feeling about this.
How could she not? Her father was accused of treason by a boy King who clearly was mad and sadistic. Sansa might believe that she had managed to convince her betrothed to spare their father's life; Cersei might believe that her influence over her vicious son was strong enough that she could manipulate him into sending Ned Stark to the Wall; Rosalie had a really strong feeling that was far from the truth.
Much like Robb and Jon, Rosalie had inherited their father's ability to rid his face of all emotions. And as she watched her father being taken out of the Sept of Baelor and into the courtyard, in full fire of the gathered populace that had come to watch him confess his sins, Rosalie tried to keep that mask of indifference. She refused to allow Cersei or Joffrey to see how frightened she was. How much she wanted to cry and run towards her father like a little girl.
"Traitor!"
" Coward!"
Rosalie hid a wince at the words that the people of King's Landing screamed at her father who was one of the kindest and most honourable people in Westeros. When she saw the way she pushed and hit him as he was led through the angry mob and how someone even threw an apple at him, all she wanted to do was protect him like he had protected her during her entire life.
Since Rosalie's gaze never left her father's figure, she noticed how he bumped into a slightly familiar man dressed in black. And how her father seemed to shout something at the man who immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction.
Her grey-blue eyes widened a fraction when she realised what her father had seen. Upon the pedestal for the statue of Baelor sat her little sister, Arya, and watched with horror as their father was led up on the platform where Rosalie, Sansa, Cersei and Joffrey stood with a few other courtiers and soldiers.
But she forced herself to not look at her little sister any longer. Rosalie was well aware of the many eyes on her and that a majority of those eyes were loyal to the Lannisters. And she couldn't risk her little sister's life; Arya definitely had a better chance surviving on her own than she had in court.
Beside her, Rosalie could see how Sansa smiled as their father turned towards the crowd and she didn't know if she wanted to hug her innocent little sister and shield her from the world, or slap some sense into her.
Her father cleared her throat and addressed the crowd, "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold I plotted to murder his son and seize the Throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the Gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
Lies, it was all lies.
Her father had always been a terrible liar. And no one that truly knew him would ever believe that he had betrayed King Robert, a man he loved like a brother, or that he'd ever try to murder a child - bastard or not. For a moment, Ned looked over at his eldest daughter and Rosalie could do nothing but look back, tears filling her eyes. Tears that she refused to let fall.
Then Grand Maester Pycelle spoke, "As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." The old man turned to Joffrey, "What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"
Joffrey had a sadistic smirk on his face as he first turned to his mother, "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join The Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile."
Rosalie might not like the Queen, but for once Cersei's request was logical. No one could ever claim the Lannister Queen was an idiot and she knew that if something were to happen to the Lord of Winterfell, the Seven Kingdoms would be thrown into another war.
"And My Lady Sansa," Joffrey continued as Sansa smiled sweetly at him because even after all this she was enamoured by him, "has begged mercy for her father."
"And my Lady Aunt," Joffrey looked at her and Rosalie looked him dead in the eye, face void of any emotion, making her grey-blue eyes appear colder than a winter storm. And much like any cowardly little lion cub, Joffrey cowered in fear at the coldness.
He looked back at the crowd as he continued, clearing his throat since Rosalie's threatening glare made him forget what he was saying. "My Lady Aunt has pleaded for me to spare her father's life and to remember the strong bond between our families."
Rosalie could see the exact moment Joffrey's expression lost some of its amusement and his smirk grew even more vicious, "But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished."
The next words out of Joffrey's mouth would change Rosalie and her entire family's life forever. And even before they words left his lips, Rosalie's stomach twisted painfully.
"Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"
The smallfolk roared with approval; Sansa's sweet smile was replaced by a distraught expression as she started yelling, or rather pleading Joffrey to spare their father, only to be held back by Kingsguards. Meanwhile Rosalie was momentarily frozen and the fact that she didn't act immediately made the Kingsguards believe she wouldn't do something.
So when she ran towards her father, falling down on her knees beside him and then she threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug that he couldn't return since his hands were tied behind his back.
"Be strong for me, Rosie," Ned whispered to his daughter, tears flooding his own eyes. "I love you so much, little wolf."
"I love you too, Papa," Rosalie mumbled, hugging him closer. This couldn't be the end. This couldn't be happening.
"Now let go," Ned told her just as Rosalie felt someone grab her arms and forcefully drag her away from her father.
"No, no, no, no," Rosalie muttered as she was forced further away from her father who had a look of heartbreak on his face when he saw how distraught his eldest daughter was. "Let me go!"
"Don't be stupid, wolf girl," Sandor Clegane told her harshly.
But Rosalie could not hear him. Just like she couldn't hear the crowd chanting for her father's head, the way Sansa screamed and cried for their father to be spared or how even Cersei tried to stop Joffrey. It was all silent to her as she saw Ilya Payne unsheath her father's own sword, Ice, that had been in their family for centuries.
One last time Ned looked over at Rosalie and offered one last, heartbreaking smile before he closed his eyes, lowered his head and muttered a prayer just as Ser Ilyn raised his sword and in a single movement removed Ned Stark's head.
That's when all the noises returned again. Rosalie felt sick as the crowd cheered in happiness, Sansa screamed in horror and fainted beside her while her father's blood dropped from Ice's blade.
"Be careful," Rosalie told her older brother. "I want you back in once piece."
"Don't you want me back in one piece, little sister?" Brandon mocked, having overheard what she said.
"I wouldn't mind if someone cut out your tongue and left it in Barrowton," Rosalie smiled with more sarcasm than any six year old should possess.
"Oh, never change, little rascal," Brandon laughed.
"Don't worry, Rosie," Ned kissed her forehead. He wanted to put on a brave face for his sister to make her worry less even though he was terrified of leaving home. "I will be back before you know it."
"I will hold you to that."