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— Not too long after the Dance of The Dragons ended, Alys Velaryon–Stark was born. There were the rumours that she was truly a Snow child as she looked nothing like her siblings.
While Sarra grew to be a beautiful girl – with [Y/N] being reminded she looked everything like Jacaerys.
After Alys, Brandon – future heir to Winterfell – was born, he followed his elder sister in looks.
Alys was born, and raised in the North and yet her body never got properly used to the cold weather, her lips would turn blue and the tip of her ears cold to the touch. She never bonded with one of Ethons pups nor a dragon egg.
Nevertheless, Jacaerys still was proud of his daughter, bastard or not. He understood her pain and the burden of the role.
It took [Y/N] and Jacaerys another couple of years to produce any heirs and once they did Lyanna and Edric joined them.
A pair of twins to end [Y/N] trial of childbirth. In tears while birthing the two, she had told her husband that they were the last.
And they were.
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Jacaerys' life was cut off abruptly at only six–and–sixty. He was struggling with an illness that none of his family knew how to solve neither the Maesters.
And yet he died with a smile on his face as his family surrounded him and he was welcomed back in his mother's warm embrace.
[Y/N] died abruptly the next year. Many will say it was due to heartbreak, or the pressure of being Lady of Winterfell at such a old age.
But as she knew her final minutes were coming, she walked down to Ethon's cage – who was there through everything in [Y/N]'s old and younger ages. He knew this was the final goodbye as she rested her head about his fluffy back.
He curled into her protecting her from the cold as she took her final breath. Ethon was soon to follow her.
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Sarra, now five–and–forty, sat at her fathers old desk as the people downstairs celebrated Brandon's new role as Lord of Winterfell.
Tears streamed down her face as she read the letters that were shared between her parents. There were letters of love and letters of hatred but she knew that her mother was extremely stubborn – something that her and her Alys had picked up – but her parents loved each other.
Sarra looked at her fathers name written down on the letter, her thumb caressing the century old ink. She knew she will never see the name written on good terms anymore, only now in grief or rememberance.
