Becoming Porcelain

Chapter 61- Stark of Winterfell

NED'S POV

"A name? What's his name?" I asked and turned to Lyanna, but her eyes were already closed and all the colour had drained from her face.

I looked at her in shock, my sister, my once so powerful sister was gone, taken before her time before my very eyes.

Tears fell down my cheeks as one of the maids took the baby from her arms. And then, for the last time I hugged her, something I hadn't done in a while.

I held her warm body to my chest, squeezing her tight as if she would awaken. I didn't get here in time, I didn't get here in time to truly talk to her.

"I'm sorry." I whispered repeatedly in her hair, as I held her close. "I'm so sorry."

I had failed her. I failed her in everything, loyalty, honour and love. I knew, I always knew about it, but I chose not to believe it, like the fool I was.
Did she hate me for it? I was a horrible brother for not believing, I was a horrible brother for not being here for her.

A coward.

That is what I am.

She didn't need to run away, she could've stayed and it all would've worked out in the end.

"I'm sorry." I whispered once more.

I didn't let go of her, I held her for what felt like hours in complete silence. The room smelt of blood, but within it was the smell of roses, it had always been her smell. Everyone has their own scents, hers was roses.

As my hand slipped under her pillow, I suddenly felt something cold and I instantly looked up, lifting the pillow slightly. There, just by my hand were two broaches, one was the Targaryen sigil, the other a Stark sigil. I picked them up in my hand and looked at them in confusion. Why were these under her pillow? Two boring broaches.

Howland Reed then stumbled in, breaking me from my thoughts, and stood silent in shock as he analysed the scene that was put before him. Lyanna had helped him, and he came with me here to thank her once more, but, we were just too late.

I looked at him and shook my head. He knew what had gone on, and I watched sadness overcome his features.

I slipped the broaches in my pocket and looked back down at my sister. She looked beautiful, just like she was sleeping. Her long, dark, wavy hair ran over her shoulders like a waterfall, her lips were lightly parted, but her skin was pale, missing the usual crimson cheeks.

I felt a tear run down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away.

Then, for one last time, I kissed my little sister on the cheek and whispered goodnight in her ear. The last goodnight I would ever give her, and the last time I would ever hold her.

I placed her down onto the blooded bed, and stood to my feet.

I looked at the Dornish maid as she stood there, tear stains on her face. The baby snuffled in her arms, and reached its hands out to the sky. I walked over to her and took the baby from her, holding him tightly to my chest just like I had done with his Mother.

He stopped moving once he was beside me, and the baby boy looked up at me with its dark eyes and analysed my face.

"He's quiet for a newborn." The maid said and I nodded my head. He was quite, and it worried me.

"Are you a midwife?" I asked and looked up at her.

"I am." She replied.

"Is he healthy?"

"Perfectly healthy, just quiet." She responded and smiled. "The Lady once told me that her Prince was quiet as well."

My eyes filled up with tears at her words and I nodded once more. Prince Rhaegar was quiet people use to say, especially when he was younger.

"Is there a wet nurse?" I asked and she nodded her head.

"There should be one coming, she should be here soon." She said and wiped away the tears that fell from her eyes.

She was older, much older than Lyanna and I, but she acted like she had never seen a woman die in child birth, yet most midwives had.

Silence fell on the room as I looked at the baby in my arms, he didn't have a name, she hadn't named him, meaning I would have to come up with something. This baby was a Targaryen, blood of old Valyria, yet he couldn't have a Targaryen name. If Robert found out another Targaryen existed in Westeros, he'd kill him.
He was my nephew, I could see Lyanna in him, that was obvious, he would fit in just right at Winterfell. But would he be accepted?

"That child is a Prince," The maid said and smiled down at him. "A Prince of the seven kingdoms."

But she was wrong, he wasn't a Prince.

"He's not a Prince, he's a bastard." I corrected her.

"No, he isn't a bastard." She said sternly and I heard Howland shuffle awkwardly at her tone.

I looked at her hard face as she stared at me harshly, was she testing me?

"They are married, her and the Prince, she told me many times."

Married? They couldn't be... it wasn't possible. Why would he marry her?

Rhaegar had been married, to Elia Martell, before both of their deaths. It wasn't possible for them to be married, no Septon would marry someone twice.

"You can't marry twice." I said and turned away. This woman was lying, for a reason I did not know.

"It was annulled!" She shouted from behind and I instantly froze.

I turned back round and suddenly the baby began to cry, but I ignored it. My mind was only on one thing.

Annulled... He had annulled his marriage? I could feel myself becoming anxious at what this maid was saying, my palms were sweaty and I could feel my heart beat beginning to pound.
Annulment was rare, very rare, not many people did it, especially if they already had children. It's frowned upon, everyone knows that, but once it is done there's no turning back. It breaks alliances, but also brings new ones. Only a Prince could ask of such a thing.

I glanced back at Lyanna, and I could feel the worry bubbling up inside. The baby cried loudly, but all I could do was stare at her lifeless body. She was a Princess, a destined Queen, my very own sister.

"A Princess." Howland said from beside me, causing me to turn to him and nod.

The maid didn't understand why it was such a shock to us, I could tell. But either way, she stood and watched how we went about things.

I let out a worried sigh and looked down at the dark eyed baby that cried in my arms.

None of this could come out, not now. If Robert knew, he'd kill him and my promise to Lyanna would be shattered.

He's a legitimate heir to the Iron Throne. A Targaryen boy. But from now on, he would be a Stark, a Stark of Winterfell.