The celebrations continued for days after the wedding.
No one had planned for them to last that long. The official ceremony was over, the vows had been exchanged, and the feast had ended. Yet somehow the people of Narnia continued finding reasons to celebrate.
That was simply how they were.
Whenever there was good news, people gathered together. Whenever there was a reason to smile, they smiled. Musicians played in the taverns, children filled the streets, and every evening seemed to turn into another excuse for food, music, and laughter.
For Lord Rickard Stark, it was a strange experience.
The North celebrated victories. The North celebrated harvests. The North celebrated marriages.
But not like this.
There was a lightness to the people of Narnia that still surprised him.
Few days after the wedding, Rickard stood upon one of the balconies of Gryffindor Castle, looking out across the city of Telmar.
The evening sun painted the rooftops gold. Ships moved through the harbor below while merchants packed away their wares for the night. Workers headed home after a day's labor, and the sound of distant music drifted upward from the streets.
Children chased one another between buildings while sailors laughed outside taverns. Everywhere he looked, people seemed busy living their lives.
For a long time, Rickard simply watched.
There was something soothing about it.
Winterfell was home. It always would be. Yet Winterfell often carried the weight of responsibility. Every conversation involved harvests, defenses, politics, supplies, or preparations for winter.
Telmar felt different.
"You are thinking too loudly."
Rickard smiled before he even turned around.
Rhaella stepped onto the balcony carrying two cups of tea. She handed one to him before joining him at the railing.
"Thank you," he said.
She leaned beside him, and for a while neither spoke.
The silence between them felt comfortable.
Not awkward.
Simply peaceful.
Eventually Rickard broke it.
"We are going to King's Landing."
Rhaella wasn't surprised.
"I know."
Rickard laughed quietly.
"Of course you do."
He took a sip of tea and looked back toward the city.
"We have to tell them ourselves."
The words felt obvious.
Sooner or later the news would spread across Westeros. Merchants were already leaving Telmar for ports across Essos. Sailors carried stories from one harbor to another. Nobles who attended the wedding would undoubtedly send letters home.
Within months everyone would know.
Perhaps sooner.
"Half of Essosi merchants.attended our wedding," Rickard said with amusement.
"And the other half will hear about it before the month ends," Rhaella replied.
Rickard chuckled.
"There are merchants heading to Braavos, Pentos, Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh..."
He shook his head.
"The story is already spreading."
Rhaella smiled faintly.
"A former Queen of Westeros married the Lord of Winterfell in a temple of Frigga."
When she said it aloud, both of them laughed.
"It does sound ridiculous," Rickard admitted.
"It sounds like something from a singer's tale."
The laughter faded, and Rickard's expression became thoughtful.
"Eddard doesn't know."
Rhaella turned toward him.
"Nor Brandon."
He sighed.
"Nor Benjen."
The realization bothered him more than he cared to admit.
Everything had happened so quickly.
He had arrived in Narnia expecting to visit his daughter and perhaps spend some time with his grandson.
Instead, he had somehow left the temple as a married man.
Even now the speed of it all seemed unbelievable.
"Lyanna organized everything," he said.
"The guests. The ceremony. The invitations."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Gods, I think she planned the entire wedding in less than a day."
Rhaella laughed.
"That sounds exactly like Lyanna."
Rickard couldn't argue.
His daughter had always possessed the ability to throw herself into something completely and somehow make it work.
For a few moments they simply watched the city.
Then Rickard spoke again.
"You know, I've been thinking."
Rhaella immediately looked suspicious.
"What?"
"Whenever powerful men start a sentence like that, something important usually follows."
"Perhaps."
His smile faded slightly.
"I am getting old."
"You are."
Rickard stared at her.
"You could at least pretend otherwise."
"No."
That answer made him laugh despite himself.
Living in Narnia had changed her.
The reserved queen he first met in Westeros seemed increasingly distant now. Here she laughed more often. Smiled more often. Spoke more freely.
It suited her.
Rickard looked toward the horizon.
"I spent most of my life preparing for disasters."
His voice carried decades of experience.
"Wildling raids. Southern politics. Ironborn attacks. Blackfyre Rebellions."
He paused.
"Bad harvests."
Another pause.
"Winter."
Always winter.
The North taught its rulers to expect hardship.
Good years were appreciated.
Bad years were anticipated.
A wise lord never assumed prosperity would last forever.
"We lose people to cold," Rickard continued quietly.
"To famine. To war. To sickness."
He smiled faintly.
"Most northerners don't expect to reach old age."
His gaze drifted toward the bustling city below.
"I never expected to reach this age myself."
Rhaella placed her hand over his.
"But you did."
Rickard stared at Telmar.
The city glowed beneath the setting sun. Ships arrived from distant shores. New buildings rose every month. Trade routes connected continents. Opportunities seemed endless.
Everything looked bright.
The North prospered.
Moat Cailin had been rebuilt.
Trade flowed through the Neck.
Benjen ruled Moat Cailin.
Eddard already handled much of Winterfell's administration.
The North no longer depended entirely upon him.
And somehow all of it had begun because Lyanna disappeared with a strange mage.
The thought made him laugh.
"What is funny?" Rhaella asked.
"My daughter."
That answer only confused her.
Rickard shook his head.
"One day she vanishes with a foreigner."
"The next thing I know she has a dragon."
Another finger.
"A kingdom."
Another.
"A son."
Another.
"Another child on the way."
He laughed again.
"And somehow she solved half the North's problems while doing it."
Rhaella joined his laughter.
Then Rickard became serious once more.
"I think it's time."
Rhaella already knew what he meant.
"Eddard."
Rickard nodded.
"Eddard already rules."
There was pride in his voice.
"The people believe in him."
"The lords trust him."
"He is a better administrator than I ever was."
The admission came easily.
Not because he lacked confidence in himself.
But because it was true.
"I spent years teaching him," Rickard continued.
"It would be foolish not to trust him."
Rhaella squeezed his hand.
"So you wish to step down."
Rickard looked out over Telmar once more.
The world suddenly felt much larger than Winterfell.
Much larger than Westeros.
For the first time in his life, he realized there were places he wanted to see.
Braavos.
The new Narnian capital in Essos.
Andalos.
The great temples.
The whale fleets.
The eastern cities.
So many places existed beyond the North.
Places he had never allowed himself to explore because duty always came first.
"I spent my entire life protecting my people," he said quietly.
"And I do not regret it."
Not for a moment.
Every sacrifice had been worthwhile.
Every difficult choice had been necessary.
But perhaps that chapter of his life was ending.
Rickard turned toward Rhaella.
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Perhaps it is time to let my children protect theirs."
Rhaella simply rested her head against his shoulder.
Below them, Telmar continued its evening routine. People laughed. Music echoed through the streets. Ships arrived in the harbor carrying travelers from distant lands.
Life moved forward.
And for the first time in many years, Rickard Stark allowed himself to imagine a future that did not revolve around responsibility.
A future that involved travel.
Family.
And happiness.
Strangely enough, that future seemed to begin here.
In Narnia.
The departure from Narnia proved far more emotional than anyone had expected.
Especially for two children who had spent the better part of a year attached at the hip.
Prince Sirius Gryffindor stood near the harbor with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, wearing a frown that had become increasingly famous throughout Gryffindor Castle. The expression had lasted nearly three days now, and everyone around him knew exactly why.
Across from him stood Daenerys Targaryen, a small travel bag hanging from her shoulder as she prepared to board the ship.
"You look angry," she observed.
"I am."
Daenerys rolled her eyes. "You've been angry since yesterday."
"I know."
"You skipped breakfast."
"I know."
"You ignored me at dinner."
For the first time, Sirius looked directly at her.
"You are leaving."
The words came out so quickly and honestly that Daenerys found herself unable to respond immediately.
The truth hung between them.
Over the past year, they had become inseparable. They attended lessons together, explored Telmar together, participated in games together, and managed to get into trouble together often enough that Lyanna had stopped counting. For Sirius, Daenerys had simply become part of everyday life.
Now she was leaving.
Daenerys sighed and stepped closer.
"I have to go."
"You don't."
"I do."
"You can stay."
A small smile appeared on her face.
"And live in your castle forever?"
Sirius considered the idea seriously.
"That sounds fine."
Despite herself, Daenerys laughed.
"Sirius."
The young prince looked away toward the harbor.
"I know."
His voice became quieter.
"I just don't like it."
Something softened in Daenerys' expression. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. To everyone's surprise, Sirius hugged her back immediately.
"You're my best friend," she whispered.
Sirius nodded.
"You too."
"Then stop looking like someone died."
"I'm trying."
"You are failing."
That finally earned a smile from him.
Nearby, Lyanna watched the exchange with amusement while Ellaria Sand stood beside her.
"Young love," Ellaria said with absolute confidence.
Lyanna immediately snorted.
"They're children."
Ellaria looked completely unconvinced.
"I said what I said."
Lyanna wisely decided not to continue that particular conversation.
The harbor itself bustled with activity. The ship preparing to depart carried an unusual collection of passengers. Rhaella was returning to King's Landing, accompanied by Rickard Stark. Viserys would be returning as well, while Ellaria had finally decided to return to Dorne after months away.
Her daughters, however, had different ideas.
"I am staying," Obara announced firmly.
"So am I," Tyene added without hesitation.
Nymeria nodded. "Father wanted us educated."
Ellaria placed a hand dramatically against her chest.
"My daughters are abandoning me."
"You can visit," Tyene replied.
"Or stay," Nymeria suggested.
Ellaria pointed accusingly at them.
"You are trying to get rid of me."
"Maybe," Obara admitted honestly.
The girls burst into laughter while Ellaria looked personally betrayed.
In truth, none of them wanted to leave Narnia. For the first time in their lives they were treated like ordinary children rather than noble bastards. Nobody whispered behind their backs. Nobody judged them for their birth. They attended classes, made friends, and enjoyed life without constantly being reminded who their father was.
It was a freedom none of them wished to lose.
Eventually the final farewells were completed, ropes were cast off, and the great ship slowly departed Telmar's harbor.
Many passengers remained on deck watching the city shrink into the distance.
None more than Sirius.
Long after Telmar vanished beyond the horizon, he remained at the rail staring toward where it had been.
The voyage itself proved surprisingly pleasant.
Viserys, perhaps more than anyone else aboard, seemed determined to stay busy. Unlike the first voyage, when he had simply been a passenger, this time he worked alongside the crew almost constantly. He helped adjust sails, inspected ropes, assisted navigators, and carried supplies whenever extra hands were needed.
The sailors quickly accepted him as one of their own.
Which amused Rickard Stark greatly.
One afternoon he found Viserys helping move cargo crates below deck.
"You do realize you're a prince?" Rickard asked.
Viserys laughed.
"You sound like my brother."
"Because it's true."
The young Targaryen shrugged.
"It doesn't mean I can't work."
Then, with obvious pride, he produced a small leather pouch and shook it.
Rickard raised an eyebrow.
"What is that?"
"I earned this."
The pride in his voice was unmistakable.
"I earned every coin."
Rickard couldn't help smiling.
The boy had changed enormously since arriving in Narnia. The arrogance and bitterness that once defined him had faded. The pride remained, as any Targaryen would keep, but now it was accompanied by confidence, purpose, and genuine accomplishment.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Viserys was becoming his own man.
Rhaella noticed it too.
Several times during the voyage she found herself simply watching her son work alongside ordinary sailors. Every time she did, she smiled.
She had not seen him this happy in years.
Eventually the familiar coastline of Westeros appeared on the horizon.
Then came King's Landing.
The city rose from the sea exactly as everyone remembered. The Red Keep dominated the skyline while countless chimneys filled the air with smoke. Ships crowded the harbor, and the massive city walls stretched across the hills like stone guardians.
Daenerys looked excited.
Viserys looked thoughtful.
Rhaella looked nervous.
Rickard looked resigned.
The ship entered the harbor without incident.
A dockworker noticed Rhaella first.
The man froze in place.
Then he pointed.
"Queen Rhaella!"
The shout spread instantly.
Heads turned throughout the harbor.
"Queen Rhaella!"
"The Queen Mother!"
"She's back!"
Within moments hundreds of eyes focused on the arriving vessel.
Then someone noticed something else.
Rhaella's pregnancy.
Then chaos erupted.
"What?"
"She's pregnant!"
"Who got the Queen Mother pregnant?"
"Seven Hells!"
"Is that Lord Stark?"
"It is Lord Stark!"
The harbor exploded into activity. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Sailors climbed rigging for a better view. Dockworkers stopped unloading cargo. Everyone rushed closer.
And unfortunately for Rickard Stark, Rhaella was still holding his hand.
The implications spread through the crowd faster than wildfire.
The Queen Mother.
Pregnant.
Holding hands with the Lord of Winterfell.
The conclusions practically drew themselves.
Rickard sighed deeply.
"It begins."
Rhaella almost laughed.
"You knew this would happen."
"I did."
"Regret it?"
Rickard looked at her. Then at the growing crowd. Then back at her.
"No."
The answer came without hesitation.
For the first time since arriving in King's Landing, Rhaella smiled completely free of worry.
Nearby, Viserys buried his face in his hands.
"Oh no."
Daenerys, meanwhile, looked absolutely delighted.
"Oh yes."
Within minutes the rumors escaped the harbor and spread throughout the city.
The Queen Mother had returned.
She was pregnant.
She was apparently involved with Lord Rickard Stark.
And before anyone from the Red Keep could arrive to explain anything, half of King's Landing had already decided exactly what had happened.
Author's Note:
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