From Winter to Summer and Winter Again 4

Part 4

Rhaenyra stood beside Catelyn under a blue, sodden canopy. Rain poured throughout the Riverlands as Tully guards lead Lord Karstark to his death. The two who held his arms dropped him to his knees, pushing him on his knees. Rhaenyra watched her husband speak silently to him, his eyes dark in anger. He gripped his longsword tightly, the point of the blade dug into the mud. 

Catelyn nervously glanced at Rhaenyra as Robb began to speak loudly for the witnesses. "Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold, here in sight of gods and men, I sentence you to die. Would you speak a final word?" 

"Kill me and be cursed. You are no king of mine." Lord Karstark lowered himself onto the bloodied tree stump, lengthening his neck for impact. Rhaenyra winced as Robb's sword struck through his neck. Her eyes followed the decapitated head as it rolled away from the stump and into the muddy ground. Robb handed his sword toward his Westerling squire and walked toward the castle, leaving Rhaenyra and his mother confused. The bannermen present spoke amongst themselves clearly displeased at the evident loss of another great house. 

Rhaenyra sighed, pulling her hood over her head and following Robb into the rain. She hastily walked, her boots sticking into the mud with each step. She exited the small courtyard to the stone paths that lead to the castle. Robb was feet away, his cloak drenched from the heavy waters that poured down. From her distance, Rhaenyra noticed the heaviness of his shoulders and the unease of his person. "Robb!" She screamed, lifting her drenched skirt and coat. "Robb!" He continued to walk paying no mind to her call. 

Rhaenyra ran forward, praying she would not slip on the smooth stones. She reached his pace as they neared the entrance of the castle. As they began to step past the entrance, she placed a loving hand on his shoulder. Robb flinched at her touch, turning abruptly. "Leave me." 

She stopped following him, watching as he walked further into the halls of Riverrun. Rhaenyra sighed, calmly closing her eyes in attempts to soothe herself. She began to walk to her quarters in hopes of finding a distraction with her children. 

Bella brought the princes to her within moments. Domeric immediately began speaking of his boring lessons Bella attempted to teach him. He sat on the bed, kicking his legs over its edge as Rhaenyra sat in front of the fire with Henry. She curiously watched as his grey eyes wondered over the flames. He held onto her shoulder as he wobbled around as he attempted to walk. 

Henry continued to toddle around the room as best as he could, holding onto furniture r for assistance. Rhaneyra remained by the fire as she watched him. He was a curious sight, independent for such a young child. 

"Mummy?" She hummed in response. "Can you tell me a story?" 

Rhaenyra tilted her head, watching as Domeric smiled. "A story? You know many stories."

"Bella tells me stories. Your's are better." He hopped off the bed to walk toward her. Henry sat against the bed, he began pulling the pillows from his seat by their cases. Domeric pointed before sitting in front of his mother. 

"Well, what do you want to hear?"

Domeric looked to the fire, his blue eyes easily reflecting the orange of the flames. "Tell me about my grandfather." 

"Your father's father?" Rhaenyra received a small nod, she opened her arms and Domeric fell against her. She smiled at the warmth he emanated. Her mind raced as she tried to remember comforting stories of her late father in law. She had spent less and less amount of times with him as the years progressed, which she regretted. Rhaenyra brought her lips to her son's head as a thought came to her. "I will tell you a story my father told me. This is how I knew your grandfather. The honorable Ned Stark, the rebel, the warrior." She recollected the tale of the Tower of Joy. Describing the fight between loyal Targaryen King's Guards and usurper rebels. Her heart softened as Domeric's eyes brightened with each mention of his grandfather. "With one single thrust to the neck, Lord Eddard Stark took down Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning."