The Queen in the North

Chapter Twelve: Lady Sylvina Baratheon

It had been news that they had known was coming, shortly after returning to Winterfell after doing treaties with Yara and the execution of Arlenna the news that Sylvina Baratheon had taken a turn for the worst. 

Her Maester did not think she had much longer to live, her health rapidly declining and she had taken to her bed; she had refused to get up and had called for her confessor to give her the last rites. 

The halls of Beckton were already dressed in mourning and her ladies wept for their mistress, no one could have expected that she would decline so quickly that they had not seen it coming. 

Lady Ceria Caswell had travelled from her marital home, she had been by her mother's side since the news had reached her; she couldn't believe that she was about to become an orphan. 

It meant that she was the last of her family, her father and older brother had already died and she had kept a distance from her niece and nephews because she hadn't coped very well with the news that she would never have children of her own. 

Ceria watched as her mother lay in her bed, her breathing laboured as she slept and she felt tears burn her eyes as she pondered everything that she had missed. 

Her husband had always been loving and tender, he had understood her grief at them never having children and now he helped her run her mother's lands that would soon be her own. 

The doors to the chamber opened and Ceria pursed her lips as she saw Sanira enter the room, the younger woman moved to greet her aunt who dropped into a stiff curtsy. 

"Your Grace," Ceria murmured, her husband had been quick to declare his loyalty for House Stark when Robb had been made king; he had expressed his excitement knowing that as aunt and uncle to the new Queen that they would benefit from that in some way. 

Dovan had been granted some royal warrants in recent months, his House were known for their horses and they now provided horses to House Stark.

Dovan had even gifted some ponies to the young princes for them to learn to ride, he was pleased that his gifts were warmly welcomed and hoped to be invited to court soon. 

That was Ceria's worst nightmare, she had not been close with her niece or her nephews and serving in Sanira's court at her behest was not something that she wanted; Ceria was too proud for that. 

"Sanira," Sylvina called reaching out, a smile upon her face as she looked at her only granddaughter who was quick to move to her side; Ceria couldn't hide the look of jealously on her face. 

To her it was another sign of Rolan's family being favoured over her, it sucked to see her mother find everything that she was looking for in her granddaughter rather than her own daughter and to watch Sylvina share their heritage with Sanira.

"Grandmother," Sanira whispered, she sat down on the bed beside her grandmother who was prompted up by pillows; it was strange to see the once strong Sylvina in such a way. 

It seemed like not too long ago that Sanira had been learning of her heritage from her grandmother, who had been eager to see their heritage passed on while she had the chance. 

"Perhaps I should fetch the Maester," Sanira encouraged, she didn't like to see her grandmother suffer like this; she felt like she still had so much to learn and she didn't feel ready to do so alone. 

Her grandmother had always been so kind and caring, a stark contrast to the woman that her mother had been; the execution of Arlenna was still fresh in Sanira's mind. 

"There's nothing for a Maester to see and, thank Gods, nothing that some fool with a knife could think to cut out," Sylvina informed, she looked at Sanira knowing that there was nothing for her now.