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LORD STARK
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EDDARD STARK'S DEATH STRUCK HARD IN THE NORTH. Even those who didn't know him were saddened by his death, the Lord's who knew him best were remaining strong, despite just how crippling Eddard's death was. Valencia had hardly known him, and yet, her heart strained for his death, but mostly for his son, Robb.
When discovering his father's death, Robb dismissed the boy and became intentionally quiet. Valencia had tried to talk to him, to get him to respond, but Robb belonged to his own world. What had been a perfect day, was ruined by the murderous boy Joffrey, the source of all their problems.
For some time Robb had remained quiet, sitting at their dining table, his fist connected to his lips in deep thought. Valencia kneeled beside him, gently rubbing his arm comfortingly while murmuring gentle words. She knew he did not listen. Soon after, he dressed himself in his armour, took his sword and left without another word.
At first, Valencia did not decide to find him. Until realisation came that there were multiple captives of the Lannister army in the dungeons of Riverrun, she didn't believe that Robb would seek revenge against mere soldiers, though she had been wrong before, and she feared that Robb could do such a thing.
Tearing off her nightgown, she slipped into a pair of pants and threw on one of Robb's tunics with great struggle before she shrugged on her wolf cloak and boots before sprinting out of their room. Pain shrugging up her legs with every step she took.
She raced out of there room, desperately trying to find the dungeons below her, she eventually asked a servant to escort her, which they did no questions asked.
Hurrying beneath the cold under ground lair, Valencia ran passed cells of wounded, squealing men who were cursing her name. She ignored them and searched for pained screams.
She found none.
Robb had beaten her suspicions and had not come looking for revenge against Lannister soldiers.
Finding her way to the surface, she began wandering through the camp, her body language restricted and her voice quiet, her eyes desperately searching for her husband.
She had not know Lord Eddard very well, but she felt as if she had. She remembered how her father would tell her stories of his rebellion, with Ned at his side. He described him so valiantly and noble, she had wished to meet him, and when she was in Winterfell and scolded herself from not speaking with him more. She wished she had, he was her father-by law meaning they were family, one way or another. She remembered a short encounter they had when her father and Ned had announced the betrothal only to Robb and Valencia, he had been so kind.
~~~MANY MONTHS AGO~~~
THE WIND CLIPPED AT HER EXPOSED CHEEKS. Valencia walked along the battlements of Winterfell, her gloved hands rubbing together to generate some heat. Her mind was cloudy with love, her eyes dreamy and her heart throbbing from the thoughts of her Jon Snow. Her body tingled with the remembrance of Jon holding her through the night, despite their brief interruption of her horrible dream of the Targaryen's. She churned for more affection from him, but she understood that Jon was incredibly reserved, and had no doubt never been with a woman before, not that Valencia particularly minded.
"Valencia, child, come here," a voice called, breaking her from her thoughts. Turning her gaze, she found Lord Eddard Stark standing before her, his eyes watching below him as his wolf cloak's fur drifted in the wind, it made him look so much broader than he originally was.
She could see what he was looking at, it was Jon, Robb and Arya, practising fighting. Robb and Jon were sparring while Arya begged them include her. A clash of metal echoed through the yard, and brought a small smile to her lips.
Valencia stood next to Ned, letting her gloved hands grasped the splintering wooden railings. "Yes, Lord Stark?" She questioned, her dark eyes looking down to his sons.
"Robert tells me you aren't too happy about the betrothal," Eddard began gently, she glanced to him, only seeing his strong jaw and thickening stubble. She suddenly began to understand that she might have offended him.
"I am sorry if I have offended you, Lord Stark," she apologised bowing her head low in shame.
Ned shook his head turning his grey eyes on her. "There is no need to apologise, Princess. But I must ask, why?"
For a short moment Ned saw something, something he hadn't seen in seventeen years.
Love.
Melancholy drifted through his chest and pinched his heart, grief slamming into him and knocking the air from his lungs. He pushed it away and looked away from Valencia, unbeknownst by her.
"It is a great honour, believe me, Lord Stark," she began kindly, before sighing. "It's just, I planned so much for my life. I wanted to see the world. Dorne, the Wall, maybe even the Eyrie. And I cannot do those whilst I remain here, in the North. Except perhaps I will be able to see the Wall, but even thats stretching a little too far," she stated, her tongue hinting at the bitterness in her heart.
Lord Stark kept his gaze solely on her, not completely detecting that she was telling the truth. Something else was holding her back from wanting to marry Robb.
"I understand, Valencia, I truly do," he considered, "you remind me of someone I knew once."
Valencia frowned and turned her body slightly, "who?" She questioned.
Lord Stark sighed, his face void of emotion like much of the North's residence. He turned once again, facing the small mountains far from Winterfell that pointed towards the South. The cold wind was icy to his cheeks, his hair blowing slightly in the breeze. It was like he had gentle fingers caressing his cheeks, luring him to the edge of the world.
"An old friend, but she died many years ago."
Valencia licked her lips, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Who was she?" she asked, Ned looked down at his sons before reaching up and rubbing underneath his nose, before letting his hand fall to the railing once more.
"She was a dear friend, Allara her name was," he hesitated, finding it hard to speak her name.
"That's a beautiful name, my Lord."
She had been forgotten, just as expected. To everyone, she was a girl that lived and died, but it was well before her time. She was nothing now. She had been forgotten once her funeral had been over, her death overruled by the death of her sister.
But Ned didn't forget.
He remembered her as best as he could, though he could not recall much. Her face had disappeared from his mind, her smile and laugh becoming smoke in the wind. If he thought hard enough he could begin to paint a picture within the walls of his imagination. He saw dark hair and haunting violet eyes, gleaming back at him. He found no mystery in the eyes he tried to remember, he found no life, or emotion, just an endless void that could never be filled. It was a sad thing what time did to ones memories, even the ones he loved most he couldn't remember. He could barely picture his sister Lyanna, or his brother, Brandon, nor his father. They were all distant memories, snatched from him during his life. But he remembered her name, that name he loved, the name attached to an unrecognisable face.
Allara. It spoke to him like a whisper in the wind, and she had not left him. For seventeen years she had remained with him, and although he could not recall every detail of her, the history she left with him would always remain.
"She was much like you, adventurous and in search of something much more extravagant the the life of an ordinary women," he spoke, remembering the soft heart that Allara had.
"She sounds wonderful, your words depict a courageous woman," Valencia stated, her face structured into a neutral, yet expressive expression.
Ned scoffed lightly, "my words do her no justice." He looked to Valencia once more, his grey eyes becoming loose with sadness. "Allara...was the most selfless woman one could meet. She wasn't just a pretty face, but a cunning mind, and men feared her. Even your father wouldn't dare to upset her," Ned smirked, remembering his old friend.
Valencia smiled, imagining the young woman, snarling at men in the most gracious way possible. "How did she die?" Valencia asked.
Ned went cold, colder than usual. His skin ran pale, and his eyes red. He never enjoyed talking about Allara, especially with how much she meant to him, but talking about it to Valencia, it seemed to be the right thing.
"There were many opinions about her death. Some speculate suicide, others illness. But I saw it as a broken heart, when her brother died, her heart broke...I was there at the time, and though I could not see it, nor hear it, I felt the pain she felt. She did not cry, she let her sister do that. But it wasn't long after that she had died."
Valencia was quiet for a few moments, soaking in the newfound information. "Did you love her, Lord Stark?"
A silence moved between them like the breeze. He hadn't thought of loving her for so long, but like her memory, her love remained as effective as the faces of his children. He could never forget the love she held for him, and the love he held for her. Eddard Stark never told anyone about the love he had for Allara, not his best friend, not his sister, none of his brothers, and certainly not his wife. Catelyn could never understand the heartbreak himself and Allara went through on his wedding day. So he never told a soul, as he had never told anyone about his sisters secret.
'Promise me, Ned.'
He kept Lyanna's promise, but he decided that he would tell someone his secret. His small secret of loving someone before Catelyn Tully, and no matter how much he loved Catelyn, her fingers could never reach the depths that Allara could.
"I did," he revealed, a huge weight falling off his shoulders. Seventeen years of not telling another soul had burdened him guilt for never completely committing to his wife.
Valencia inhaled sharply, "I don't mean to pry...but is she, Jon Snow's mother?"
For once, Eddard wasn't angered by the mention of Jon Snow's mother, he didn't have a reason to be. For the first time, he genuinely wanted to tell someone, it tempted him to open his lips and speak of Jon's mother they way he always wanted to. But he would keep his promise.
"No, she is not," he responded quietly.
Valenica nodded, her hands wrapping around the wood tighter. "I'm sorry she died, Lord Stark. She sounds like a good woman, and the fact that you carry on, despite your love for her...It shows true strength, my Lord, a strength I don't think I have. I could not bare to lose someone I loved." As she spoke, her eyes glanced down to below her, where Robb and Jon continued to spare. As if the Gods were watching, Robb successfully hit Jon in the ribs with the blunt sword, earning a groan from the half-brother. Valencia tensed upon seeing her lover in pain, her breathing hitching while Lord Stark watched her.
He found it strange how quickly she reacted to Jon attaining minor harm, but he ignored him at the account of slightly intense sparring. "I know you do not want to marry my son," he began. "I do not blame you, no one wants to have an arranged marriage, but it is how our world works. And I know that you were promised the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. But believe me, Princess, you will not miss the South, nor the burden it would have placed on you. The North is your new home, and Robb will make you happy, and I promise, you will see those places, whether it be now or a few years from now. I promise," he swore, holding her gaze intensely.
Valencia nodded, "thank you, Lord Stark."
Then, the sound of clanging ended, and the laughter of two brothers echoed in the courtyard. Valencia smiled down at them, the dreamy gaze returning before she looked to the sky. Eddard Stark noticed this, then he glanced down to Jon Snow who was looking up at them, but more Valencia Baratheon.
Then it clicked.
Jon Snow, loved this girl.
Then, Eddard smiled. It was a genuine smile that he could not always muster up. His eyes squinted, his cheeks puffed up and his skin became gently wrinkled. Jon Snow had fallen for the Princess, and she him.
It was a tragic coincidence.
~~~NOW~~~
Valencia would have given anything to go back there, to have things be the way they were supposed to be. But things were different, and everything was changed. Valencia had changed, Robb had changed, Lilith had changed. There was no going back to the old ways, to the old world, they either had to adapt and survive, or die.
For hours she could not find her husband. She asked every Lord, every servant, even Lilith didn't know where he was, until she found Catelyn Stark who was slinking away from the tree-line, her hair shimmering with the afternoon sun.
Valencia ran to her. "Lady Catelyn," she called and before Catelyn could respond, Valencia had embraced her as tightly as she could, thankfully they were alone and no one was nearby. "My Lady, I am so sorry," she spoke pulling away, seeing Catelyn's red-rimmed eyes. "I cannot imagine how you must feel."
Catelyn shook her head and wiped beneath her eyes. "Do not apologise for doings that weren't your own," Catelyn began, "I assume you're looking for, Robb?"
As guilty as she felt, Valencia needed to find him. "I am."
"He's down by the river, he needed to be alone for a while. You may go see him." Valencia nodded and bid her mother-by-law a farewell after making sure she would be alright, then the Princess was off in search of her missing husband.
He was where Catelyn said, by the river kneeled down, with his hands sunken into the cool water. He remained dressed in his armour, his sword which looked beaten by his side. Valencia's skin broke into a light sweat, her teeth gnawing into her bottom lip.
It had always been Robb to comfort her, not the other way around. She hardly remembered a time where she consoled him for his hurts, but she remembered more times than she would have liked where Robb soothed her from crying and lulled her back to happiness. But now, she was speechless.
Moving down to the stream, her heavy footsteps caught his attention. Spinning around, he met her gaze.
His eyes were full of tears. "You should go." His voice was sharper than steel, but more shaky than an old man's legs.
"Robb," she whispered, taking a step towards him.
"Go," he demanded, turning back to the water.
Valencia took another step forward, "I'm not leaving you alone out here."
"Just leave me alone!" His shout made her flinch, her eyes widening and her heart pumping. Why would he want her to leave? Could he not see she was only trying to help? "Just...just go, Valencia," he cried rising to his feet. Despite his shouts and quiet pleas, she did not leave. When the tables were turned and she begged him to go, Robb stayed by her side day and night, and she was prepared to do the same.
"I'm not leaving," she spoke, "I could never leave you." Robb inhaled sharply through his nose and rose to his feet, turning his sharp gaze on her. Valencia could see his face had become dirty with tear stains, the faintest smudge of sweat atop his forehead, the rising sun shining on his face. Then he grabbed his sword from the ground, beaten and blunt it had become, no doubt from him continuously hitting something.
"I should have left Winterfell sooner," he spat, "maybe if I had...none of this would have happened."
"Robb, do not blame yourself," she said softly, holding his teary-eyed gaze. He sobbed and closed his eyes, hanging his head low. "None of this is your fault," she continued, approaching him cautiously. Robb sobbed louder and let the blade fall to the ground, the thinest layer of snow and leaves dead beneath it. Just as her toes came close to his, Robb fell into his wife's arms, resting his cheek against her breast, and wrapping his arms around her middle. Valencia snaked one arm around the back of his neck, and the other was nestled in his hair, stroking the red curls gently, allowing him to put most of his weight on her.
She made soft cooing noises, patting the curls. She began to feel her shoulder become damp, Robb's sobs becoming harder. Valencia felt her own tears spring to her eyes, her breathing becoming heavy as a lump grew in her throat. She stroked his hair as he sobbed, "I'll kill them all, every last one of them." Valencia had never heard such anger or pain within him, it was startling at first. But Robb was right, they all needed to die.
"We will," she whispered. "They will all die, I promise." Robb sobbed harder as Valencia opened her eyes.
She found herself making a promise to herself, and to Robb. She promised that they would kill all the Lannister's and anyone who stood by them, and that she would get them home, where they belonged.
"I promise." she whispered once more, watching the sun rise.