SONG: Nightshade by The Lumineers
Robb
It happened rather suddenly. Within seconds of Jon disappearing through the passage that led to the Godswood, there was cries of relief from all the living soldiers. It wasn't immediately obvious what had happened, but a quick look around showed him that there were no wights left to fight. Blank spaces in the area they had previously been.
There was a collective surge of relief, as if a weight had been lifted off of Winterfell. Soldiers that had been fighting until their last breath slumped down with exhaustion, others passed out entirely from their wounds. It soon became rather obvious what had happened - either a mass amount of white walkers had been killed or the Night King himself. Either way, Robb allowed himself to breathe for what felt like the first time in hours.
If he wasn't mistaken, he could even see the smallest sliver of sunlight beginning to shine across the land. Dawn had arrived, at last.
Slumping against the wall, he closed his eyes for a brief moment with exhaustion, taking slow and even breaths as the adrenaline began to wear off and the aches and pains began to settle in.
"You heard of anyone important dying?" A man's voice was heard, Robb opening his eyes with interest. He saw two Northern soldiers, one tying a tourniquet tight around the others leg that was bleeding rather dangerously.
"Lady Mormont I heard, even heard she took a giant down with her but I can't tell if they're telling tales or not," the man caring to the wounded's leg replied. "The Dothraki are obliterated, I'd hope the dragon queen has the rest in storage somewhere because she's fucked if she hasn't."
"I-I heard the Bua one died atop the wall," he hissed in pain, eyeing his leg wearily.
At this, a shiver of fear ran rampant through his body, enough to nearly catapult him off the wall and storm towards the duo, eyes blazing.
"What Bua died atop the wall?" He demanded, his tone and appearance causing the two to jump in fright. Once they realised who was talking to them, they bowed their head in shame.
"I-I'm not sure, your grace!" He stammered, fearful of Robb's murderous expression. "I pray it wasn't our Queen, but I truly can't say!"
"Robb!" A voice shouted, its familiar tones prompting him to turn around abruptly. She was there. Of course she was there, nothing could ever taken down his wife.
"Fianna," he sighed in relief, making a beeline for her. His eyes scanned her appearance before they reached each other - she had been in the throes of war to be sure, with a deep bite wound on her chin that would no doubt scar. Robb didn't much care - seeing her after thinking she was hurt was still the most beautiful sight he could have asked for.
The second his arms wrapped around her, she slumped forward, the sudden weight of her armour causing him to drop to his knees, holding her tightly to him. Her sobs followed immediately afterward, worrying him greatly.
"What is it?" He begged, his hand cupping around the back of her head as she cried against his breastplate. Dragging herself back to look at him, she looked like a broken woman, covered in ash and blood.
"Tiernan didnt-... he didn't-" she broke down crying again before finishing, but she didn't need to complete her sentence for Robb to understand. Closing his eyes with sadness, he allowed her to collapse onto him again, stroking her hair as he opened his eyes and stared upward. Tears threatened to spring as he listened to the heartbroken cries of his wife. He could only hope that Tiernan's death wasn't the only one that would directly affect the two.
"Robb! Fianna!" Bonifer's call disrupted their moment, the older man making his way towards the couple, oblivious to the news she had just shared with her husband. "They're saying something happened in the crypts."
As if sparked, Fianna shot around with a look of horror on her face, all previous agony falling as she thought of the trauma she would endure if her babies had been harmed too. Robb was sure his heart fell in his chest, scrambling upward and dragging Fianna to stand as well. Together, they raced past Bonifer towards the entry to the crypts. The remaining survivors had the same idea, a large crowd blocking the doorway and the stairs. But as soon as they saw their King and Queen, they separated to clear a path.
Once they reached the open door, they had to push through another group of onlookers who were all staring forward at something.
"Move!" Robb commanded, carelessly shoving soldiers aside to get inside, hand gripped tightly onto Fianna's. The first thing he noticed was that the crypts was entirely empty - except for one single person.
Rickon's curly hair was easily distinguishable even in the dimmed lighting and short distance. Desperate for an answer to everyone's disappearance, and to ensure his brother was okay, Robb raced toward him. Fianna followed suit, but lagged behind when her foot stepped on something with a loud crunch.
Looking down in confusion, she froze at the sight of her boot lodged into a stray skull laying on the grounds of the crypts. The second she noticed it, was when she noticed.
Several skeletons were littering the ground around her, having decomposed for quite a while before tonight. Stray bricks accompanied them, having been smashed from the graves of the predeceasing Starks. Fianna cupped her hands over her mouth in horror as realisation had settled in. They had sent Winterfell's most vulnerable demographics to the Crypts - an underground tunnel where dozens of deceased bodies were entombed.
She had potentially sent her own children to their deaths.
"Rickon?" Robb asked tentatively, slowing as he reached the boy who was hunched on the ground over a dark mass. Once called upon, the youngest Stark sniffed and brought his gaze up to meet his brother's, red and teary-eyed.
"I-... I saved everyone," he explained, gaze redirecting to the direwolf beneath him. "But there was so many... Shaggydog didn't let them touch me..."
"Oh, Rickon..." Robb whispered pitifully, crouching down beside the teenager and wrapping a comforting arm around him. He purposefully kept his eyes away from the direwolf, not wanting to see the carnage the wights would have done. If it had been Grey Wind, Robb would feel equally as distraught.
"Where are they?" Fianna questioned, her low voice echoing around the walls. The brothers looked up to see her distraught expression. Rickon was startled by the sight, never having seen his good-sister so fragile.
"They went into the tunnel, under Rickard's statue," Rickon announced, starting a chain reaction from the bystanders, Fianna and Robb himself. They all surged toward the statue, pushing it with ease backward until a gaping hole appeared beneath it.
Gripping a torch from the wall, Robb ventured first inside, letting out a shout that vibrated down the tunnel. Hopefully they would hear, and hurry back before reaching Wintertown.
After a few minutes of shouts and walking forward, a small fire was seen in the distance, quickly coming closer until Fianna could just about make out a mass of people.
Running forward, too determined to care for the increasingly painful ache in her foot, she was able to distinguish faces eventually. Sansa was the first she saw, and thus, the first she ran toward.
Robb had been right on her heels the entire time, wrapping his arms around his sister in a hug she quickly reciprocated in relief.
"Thank the gods you're all alright," Sansa breathed, eyes scanning the faces she could recognise in the approaching crowd. Robb and Fianna fell to their knees as the twins launched themselves at them both, immediately being met with kisses and tight hugs from their parents.
"Everyone is alright, aren't they?" Sansa pressed, eyes flicking around curiously when she couldn't yet see Tiernan. She met Fianna's eyes then, as the mother rested her chin on Aifric's shoulder.
A single glance from the Queen, who's eyes were red raw underneath, told Sansa no - everyone was most definitely not alright.
❄️
Sansa
Fianna Stark didn't think she could cry any more by the time the funeral began. Never had she attended such an event where hundreds were being honoured, not just a single person.
The air was heavy with sorrow, the deaths from the previous night clearly having affected everyone there. They took their time in circling the pyres, giving one last goodbye to their loved ones. Fianna had been simply staring at Tiernan's corpse the entire time, unable to force her feet to move away. Meanwhile, Robb and Sansa were mourning another man they didn't expect to ever feel sorrow about.
"One time he and I snuck out to Wintertown for my nameday," Robb spoke suddenly, voice understandably hoarse. "We snuck into a tavern, wanting to try ale for the first time. Our father caught us after the barkeep told on us, and Theon convinced father that it was his fault, even though I suggested it. He took the punishment, while I stayed back like a coward."
Sansa's stony expression finally broke at his words, leaning against him for support.
"It's not the same as risking his life to save you, or giving his life to save Bran. And he didn't have our name," Robb spoke quietly, tears pooling in his eyes as his sister sobbed against his shoulder, "he didn't have our blood. But he was just as much of a Stark as me and you."
A thought sprang to mind after Robb's comment, urging Sansa to reach into her dress for the Stark pin she proudly wore as a badge of honour. She stared at it for a second, eyes meeting Robb's before moving further. He gave a small nod of approval, so she crouched down and slid it onto Theon's chest.
She couldn't bear the sight any longer, and deciding Robb needed a moment to say goodbye, she turned to the next pyre over. For her most painful goodbye yet.
Fianna looked like a ghost when she approached, the deep gash on her jawline being the most colourful thing about her complexion. Comfortingly, Sansa reached out and placed her hand on Fianna's forearm, giving it a light squeeze.
Snapping out of her daze, the Queen looked up to meet her waiting stare, smiling slightly in gratitude. Unable to face him again, Fianna gaze Sansa the lightest shoulder squeeze before venturing off towards the crowd, where Arya waited with both twins in either hand. She found them to be a massive source of comfort in the hours since the battle, but her eyes constantly honed in on slight similarities she saw between Eddie and Tiernan.
"It's not fair," Sansa swallowed, eyes fixated on the grey complexion of the man with the reddish hair and once rosy cheeks. "My whole life I thought I knew what I wanted - a valiant Prince on a steed to whisk me away from Winterfell and make me a Princess. After Joffrey and Ramsay, I thought I never wanted another man to even look at me again. And now, all I want is you. And you've been taken away from me."
Closing her eyes and taking shaky breaths to calm herself before she burst into sobs once more, Sansa leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to his cold forehead.
"You deserved better, Tiernan," she whispered against the skin, dragging herself away from the accumulation of wooden sticks before she broke down completely.
❄️
Fianna
"That's your third cup in an hour," Robb's voice murmured against the shell of her ear, amusement and underlying concern in his voice. Fianna simply shrugged and smiled tiredly back at him.
"I think I've earned it," she commented, pointedly lifting the cup to her lips again while maintaining eye contact with him.
They were seated at the top table as usual, while the rest of Winterfell tried to celebrate as best as they could. Which meant barrels of ale was being consumed in an attempt to ignore the loss they suffered.
"Thank the Gods the ale wasn't flammable or else you'd have chucked that over the wall too," Robb snickered, leaning back in his chair with one hand wrapping around a cup of his own and the other resting comfortably on her thigh.
"Keep that attitude up and you'll be going over the wall next," Fianna fired back, shooting him a cheeky wink along with it which he scoffed dramatically at.
"I'd have your head for treason!"
"From where? Beyond the grave?"
"And lest we forget the Queen herself!" Tormund's bellow interrupted their banter, both Daenerys and Fianna's heads snapping up to see the wildling bounding towards the latter of the two.
"Oh- we're doing this?" Fianna asked uncomfortably as he all but dragged her from her chair while Robb merely laughed at the sight. Tormund swept his arms under her back and legs, eliciting a squeal of shock as he shakily hauled her off her feet and showcased her to the room like a prize.
"How many men or women have held their own in a sword fight with the undead bastard himself?" His announcement was met with a flurry of cheers as he settled her back onto her feet. Cheeks burning red from embarrassment, Fianna smacked his bicep - but he barely noticed.
"I haven't forgotten you either, little King!" He shouted, wrapping his arm around Robb's neck and rubbing his scalp with his knuckles. "The only man alive to slay a dragon!"
This time, Fianna was the one to laugh as Robb uncomfortably squirmed in the wildling's grip, letting out a long exhale when he was finally released. Tormund had turned his attention toward Jon, his new man of the minute, as he proudly toasted to 'his little crow'.
Robb excused himself to 'piss', his vulgarity prompting Fianna to roll her eyes but smirk in amusement nonetheless. The only ones now seated at the table were Fianna, Daenerys and Varys.
The Queen of the North was beginning to tune out Tormund's overly loud comments, until she heard the word 'dragon' drop once or twice.
"What kind of mad bastard hops on a dragon?!" He roared in amazement, pushing Fianna to cast a side glance toward Daenerys. The Targaryen was pointedly staring at the table in front of her, looking somewhat saddened as she was left out of the applause and congratulations. Fianna imagined the dragon comment had to have cut deep as well.
Sliding over to sit in Robb's chair and be closer to her, Fianna tried her hardest to give her aunt a warm smile when they met eyes.
"I think Tormund has forgotten who gave Jon that dragon to ride," Fianna hummed, hoping it would break the tension.
"I guess all our children leave us eventually to find new love," Daenerys joked, laughing awkwardly thereafter as her eyes glanced back and forth between the table and Fianna. "I just... I wanted to thank you," she suddenly said, turning sideways to face her head on. "You saved my life."
"Don't mention-"
"No," Daenerys cut her off, a pleading smile on her lips, "I will mention it. I know that you and I haven't saw eye to eye, and a lot of your problems would have been solved if you had just left me on that field. But you came, dud leg and all, to help me. I don't know why, but I thank you for it."
"It's me that should be thanking you," Fianna spoke after a moment of silence, any amusement falling from her expression. "You could have turned around the second you heard Robb became King again, and you didn't. You brought your armies North, and suffered greatly for it. I'm just sorry that I haven't thanked you before now."
A tension seemed to have lifted in Daenerys, now feeling more comfortable around her niece and even feeling somewhat better after her words of gratitude. Perhaps hope wasn't lost altogether for the relationship she had always wanted to build between them.
"I'd imagine how you feel about me claiming the North is a lot alike with how I feel about you claiming it," Daenerys admitted, her hand cupping over Fianna's clasped ones.
"Yes," Fianna sighed, darting her eyes away for a second to recollect herself. "Well, it was rather ambitious of you to add yet another title to your long list. 'Breaker of Chains', 'Mother of Dragons', 'Wants the Seven Kingdoms'."
Daenerys threw her head back and laughed, the tense atmosphere between them lifting right before Varys' watchful eye. He watched the two talk with each other, listening intently on what was being said and analysing his Queen's inclination for her niece.
"You forgot 'The Unburnt', 'First of Her Name', 'Protector of the Realm', 'Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea," Daenerys continued for her, listing off titles she genuinely had, but it amused the two of them none the less. It was only when their laughter began to die down that she spoke again. "You know I've heard you've gained a newfound title of your own, heard it being spoken by some of the Northerners."
"What's that?" Fianna furrowed her brows in confusion, expecting a joke to follow.
"The Undefeated," she revealed, without a hint of amusement. If anything, there was a hint of admiration in Daenerys' eyes. "This is your seventh battle, and not once have you been on the losing side."
Fianna remained silent, mulling over the comment. Had it truly been seven battles? In truth, it felt like much more since the beginning of the War of the Five Kings.
From the Battle of Oxcross and Whispering Wood, to the Siege of Baelfort, destruction of the Dreadfort, the White Wedding, the Battle of the Bastards and now the Long Night - perhaps she truly had earned the new title bestowed upon her.
"Are you too good to sit amongst us commoners now?" A very familiar voice called out from a figure that had approached the table, capturing Fianna's attention as she let out a wide grin of recognition.
"You're hardly a commoner, you're a Lord now," she beamed in response, nodding to Daenerys to excuse herself as she rounded around table so she could embrace the ageing man.
The Targaryen queen smiled politely in return, eyes fixated on Fianna as she hugged an unfamiliar man, who bore the sigil of a fish on his breastplate. A Tully - if she remembered correctly. Daenerys watched the two interact, mildly surprised by the camaraderie between them. She had never seen someone interact so casually with a King or Queen until she ventured North.
Unbeknownst to her, Varys was also carefully watching, except his eyes were on the blonde. He didn't miss how she visibly deflated when Tormund praised Jon for riding Rhaegal, and how much more relaxed she became when Fianna spoke with her. His Queen definitely held a soft spot for her niece, and while it may prove to calm Daenerys wildest urges - a bond between them would also be dangerous.
At the end of the day, Daenerys would return to take over King's Landing and rule the Seven Kingdoms. Fianna Bua would never allow the North or the Riverlands to fall under her rule.
"You look horrific," Brynden commented, nodding his head towards her marked jaw.
"Oi!" Fianna smacked her hand playfully against his chest, letting out a laugh all the same. "And you look about a sneeze from death, old man."
"Not too old to be called upon for help though, eh?" He raised his eyebrows teasingly, wrapping his arm around her back to lead her towards the table he was seated at. Robb reentered at that moment, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Fianna moving to sit at quite possibly the most diverse table in Westeros. Shaking his head with amusement, he slid onto the bench at the edge, seating himself next to Fianna.
Ser Brienne, Jaime, Tyrion and a squire he believed to be called Podrick were all hunched together alongside them, clutching cups of wine and seemingly playing a game.
"King in the North!" Tyrion drunkenly cheered, holding his cup in the air in greeting. "Join in our game!"
After explaining the rules to the two newcomers, all eyes turned to Fianna as she was picked to be quizzed first. Truth be told, the Queen was fairly buzzed already. This would only send her over the edge.
"Alright," Tyrion narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer over the table with a devilish smirk. "You hated my father."
"Oh come on," she rolled her eyes, lifting the cup to her lips, "my children could have guessed that, and they've only just learned how to wipe their arse."
"Fine then," he held his hands up in surrender, narrowing his eyes again as he tried to get a read on her. "You never kissed anyone in the years you thought Robb to be dead."
"By the Gods," Robb shook his head, making eye contact with Fianna as she tried to shrink back into the seat. "I don't want to hear this again."
"You're technically wrong," she grimaced, "but I maintain that I had no other choice!"
"No other choice?" Brienne interrupted, a wide grin of amusement on her face that Fianna had never seen from the usually stoic woman.
"She kissed Arya!" Robb blurted, spurred on by the alcohol he had already taken before sitting down.
"What?!" Everyone at the table asked unanimously, equal looks of shock and amazement worn on their faces.
"It wasn't exactly Arya!" She groaned, "it's a long story!"
"Alright, alright," Tyrion waved when the excitement began to die down, "who would have thought we'd all be sitting around this table now? All of us have been on opposing sides at one point or another."
"I'll never forget the day," Robb sighed wistfully, holding back a laugh. "The sky was blue, the birds were singing - and we captured the Kingslayer."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jaime rolled his eyes, although his own lips twitched in amusement too. "You got lucky."
"I like to think it was divine intervention that left you sitting in a cage in your own shit for weeks on end," Fianna added, taking another sip from her cup.
"An act of cruelty, if you ask me!" Jaime teased in return, their conversation surprisingly light hearted.
"No one asked you," Robb threw in, the table erupting into laughs at the Kingslayer's behalf.
❄️
Robb
"Okay, your grace," Robb smirked with amusement as he watched his wife begin to sway from side to side. Her eyes fluttered tiredly, and her words were beginning to make less and less sense. "How about we get you to bed?"
"How about no?" She giggled childishly, pushing her finger against his shoulder. Robb was thoroughly enjoying drunk Fianna thus far, never having seen her in such a state before. He supposed women like Fianna rarely got the chance to let go.
"How about yes?" He raised his eyebrows, sliding out of the bench. The hall had begun to empty out already, with only the most dedicated drinkers remaining. Robb held his hand out to Fianna to assist her out of the table.
"Pfft," she scoffed, pushing his hand away, "I don't need no man to help me out. I'm a bloody Queen!"
"Alright, then," Robb smirked, standing back and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her desperately struggling to lift her legs out and around. Her attempts ended with Fianna falling over altogether when she finally lifted her legs over the bench seat, landing on her bottom on the ground.
Robb let out a bellow of laughter before he moved to help her, body shaking with his chuckles as he tried to help her to her feet. He'd have carried her over his shoulder if he wasn't fairly tipsy himself.
Locking their elbows tightly together for Fianna to use him for support to walk coherently, they began the short walk back to their chambers. Once they reached the final hallway, Fianna leaned against the door and stumbled inside, giggling all the while.
"Come hither, King in the North," she pointed at him, walking backward towards the bed and adopting a sultry expression.
"If you think I'm bedding you in that state, you're badly mistaken Fianna Stark," he shook his head with amusement, tugging on the strings of his breeches. Fianna flopped back onto the bed, her grin visibly dimming.
"Is it because of my bite mark?" She dropped her voice to a whisper, barely heard to his own ears.
"What?" He reeled, walking towards the bed once dressed for bed and sitting next to where she lay. "Why would you even think that?"
"I've never heard of a Queen in the North as scarred as I am," Fianna frowned, appearing upset seemingly out of nowhere as she stared at the ceiling above. "With my leg, the scar on my stomach where the arrow hit me before and now the mark on my jaw... you could have found a woman who wasn't a fighter and would stay pretty forever."
"If I had chosen a woman for her looks, which is irrelevant anyway because you're one of the most gorgeous creatures I've ever seen, I'd be dead by now," he kept his eyes fixated on her, not at all affected by the blemishes she pointed out. Fianna sat up in bed, her previous state of alcoholism seeming to dissipate somewhat. She met his gaze head on, full of curiosity.
"You must think little of me if you think that matters," he hummed, cupping his hand around her cheek.
"I'm well aware of how this world works," she shrugged, leaning further into his touch. They stayed silent for a moment until Robb pressed a tender kiss against her lips, silencing any and all of her worries. When he pulled away, she was smiling again.
But it faded once more. There was one worry that Robb simply couldn't quell, not until he knew about it.
"Robb," she began, after he had gestured for her to stand so he could unlace her dress, "there's something you should know."
"What's that?" He pressed, expecting it to be another drunken comment of hers as he carefully undid the binds of her dress. Fianna reached her hand behind her back to stop him, clasping onto his fingers before slowly turning around. There was a troubled expression on her face again, and an undertone of guilt.
They had promised to tell each other everything after she had withheld her grandmother's identity from him. She wasn't going to let it happen again and affect her marriage.
"It's about Jon," she sighed, taking his other hand in her free one and daring to meet his gaze. "And I don't know if you're going to like it."
❄️
And thus, the process of rewriting episode 4-6 has begun. Starting with not rushing this part because a lot of people died and I'm not just skipping to King's Landing. Build up and all that jazz.
So.... episode 5. That was... Yikes.