Chapter Text
The darkness of death greeted her with open arms, perhaps the southerners were at least correct about the Stranger. It was a scary sensation, taste, smell, hearing, sight, touch, even the sense of one’s limbs all fading away until there was nothing left but one’s thoughts and only thoughts.
Ned’s promise and her babe’s soft coos, gave her some security in her little boy’s future after her death. She cried over being separated from him, well she did the closest thing to crying that she could as a bodiless being. She thought and hoped that the afterlife was more than this; perhaps a life looking over the living, an eternal feast with all her loved ones, even a fiery hell to burn in for being the reason for the war. Catalyst as Rhaegar liked to correct her when she blamed herself rather than his father, though he brooded over it more than she. This, this was worse than a fiery hell, there was nothing but time and her thoughts, nothing more.
Then slowly one by one her senses returned and she felt weightless, floating in black nothingness. As her sight came back a faint light created rippling rays above her. The need to breathe demanded her to approach the light and move on, perhaps she’d get to greet her father, mother and eldest brother after all.
By the time she surfaced and on solid ground her lungs had been filled with water and she was coughing it all back up. When she groaned a deeper manlier groan replied and startled her. Her eyes shot open and took in her husband’s normally handsome face, the heaving up water wasn’t attractive though, call her a hypocrite. “Rhaegar…”
Midnight violet eyes widened when they met her greys. It took only an instant for his heart to visibly break, “Lya…” His hand shook just like his lip as he moved it to cup her cheek.
She wasted no time in pouncing on him and stopping that damn lip from quivering. Lyanna forced him on his back and straddled his armored lap. It probably wasn’t wise after nearly drowning but dying in the afterlife is surely not possible and if it was, kissing would be a pretty good way to go compared to a baby splitting her in half.
The sounds of violent thrashing ruined the mood though and she retreated to see what dared disturb her potential undead baby making. The source was behind a boulder, mighty convenient. Standing and removing Rhaegar’s sword belt she wielded his empty scabbard like the blade it should hold.
Behind the rock, Brandon held a shaggy silver haired man’s head in the sole pile of snow in sight. Her brother muttered curses directed at his victim as he kneeled on the man’s back. The sight was odd enough to still her.
Rhaegar stood behind her looking at the scene over her shoulder. He seemed quicker to identify the stranger than her as the man slowly stopped flailing. "I suppose that is an appropriate end for him... kills two Starks and one by fire in King’s Landing and now a Stark kills him with snow in...Winterfell?"
Aerys... She couldn’t think of a better person to test whether they could die in the afterlife.
“Oh!” A loud female voice called out happily. A woman sharing the same colored hair as Rhaegar and Aerys approached Brandon and the now motionless Aerys with a bounce in her step, practically dancing. “Thank you!”
A charming smile graced Brandon’s formerly fierce face and he waved a hand nonchalantly. “Justice, My Queen, for my father, for everyone else, for you…” Brandon said the words in that smooth tone he used to convince women to share his bed. Though his ragged appearance, underfed body and gaunt face wouldn't do him any favors.
Reading the scene before him, Rhaegar’s jaw dropped at his good-brother’s nerve. But seconds later he moved between his mother and the threat. “Ah, ah, ah, that’s my mother. Lyanna has told me of your nature, my mother shall not be one of your conquests. Though she does retain her youthful beauty.”
His mother’s eyes lit up and she quickly embraced him in a crushing hug so tight he feared she’d collapse his armor more than Robert’s hammer which left the uncomfortably deep puncture in his breastplate that poked his chest uncomfortably. “Rhaegar! My sweet son," she cried through joyful tears.
Spinning his mother a quarter of a circle, Rhaegar raised a challenging brow at Brandon Stark. “Mother!” He snuggled a bit deeper in her embrace.
The Stark heir’s long face tightened and his brows drew a scowl. Cold iron grey eyes narrowed and then widened. “You!”
Protected in his mother’s embrace and Lyanna’s presence, Rhaegar felt safe to goad. “My mother deserves only the best. Someone articulate. I can think of few people of such little wit that even enraged they would approach a man known as the ‘Mad King’ and demand the death of his eldest son and heir. You were not even knowledgeable that he wasn’t fond of me.”
Lyanna even if she felt a massive amount of guilt had to admit Brandon was stupidly impulsive, she at least had the sense to send a letter when she decided to act impulsively. “Agreed.”
A snap of a twig alerted Lyanna to a presence she hadn’t noticed before, a dark haired woman with Lyanna’s own eyes. Their mother! Lyarra looked to the sky through the canopy of bloody red hands groaning. “Oh gods, my firstborn was a dumbass.”
Brandon’s swagger disappeared and his shoulders slumped. “Mother. Lyanna was being…” His grey eyes snapped to Rhaegar now separated from the queen before he tackled Lya’s husband like a feral wolf would its prey. “You son of a bitch!” Apparently he hadn’t had his fill of killing Targaryen’s today.
Swatting his face lightly with the scabbard, Lyanna hoped it was hard enough to leave a red spot. Her husband was able to easily fend off her wild muscle lacking brother. “Brandon!” Lya tried to push him off Rhaegar with her bare feet.
“So much for the charming act…” Rhaella muttered.
Lyarra looked at the scene before her in disappointment. Shaking her head, she could only correct her previous words. “A feral dumbass by the looks of it.”
Another exhausted voice spoke up behind the Stark matriarch, Rickard’s. “This is why I needed you.”
"What a romantic way of greeting your dead wife. I died of a sickness and you say I should have stuck around to make sure everything doesn't go to shit. No hugs or kisses. No 'Lyarra I missed you so much, I built you a shrine, or maybe I vowed celibacy so you’d be the only woman to-'” Lyarra’s sarcasm was cut off by her son’s yelp.
The eldest of her children jolted away from her sole daughter. “Lyanna get your smelly feet out of my face!" Brandon swung a hand frantically at his sister’s bare foot.
Rhaegar watched the exchange above him with amusement, it was easy enough to hold back Brandon, the man spent moons in a dungeon before this and his current strength couldn’t match Rhargar’s. Plus Lyanna’s leg looked nice from this angle and the steel gorget protected his neck from being choked.
"Then keep your dirty paws off my man! I like him pretty and breathing is important for that." Lyanna said as she didn’t relent in her protection of her husband.
Brandon’s mind halted all function, and his damn sister pushed him off her rapist. “Wait. What?”
Mimicking her mother Lyanna tooked to the sky and threw her arms up. "Gods, I even told you I didn't want to marry the stupid stag. You seriously never thought I might have ran away with Rhaegar? I may not be as impulsive as you but I am still impulsive."
The dumb look on her brother’s face made her think he had the brain of a dog. "So because Robert had a bastard, you decided to run away with a married man with two kids?"
"Well yeah, I mean his wives are really pretty, who wouldn't want to kiss them? And his children are adorable too. Robert is gross and way too muscled, he’s a brute. Besides, Rhaegar's tongue is good for more than just singing and he is really good at both." Just as she had hoped her words silenced everyone. Wiggling her brows probably helped make the message clear.
Mouth agape like a fish, Brandon was speechless for once in his life.
It took a moment for Lyarra to realize the meaning of her daughter’s words, “Oh Rickard! We must try that later! You do owe me after that terrible greeting, I didn’t even get a hug or a kiss to leave me weak at the knees, so you better make up for it in bed!”
“Gross…” Little Lya’s nose wrinkled in her disgust causing her mother to laugh, that expression was such a fond sight, some things don’t change.
Back on his feet, Rhaegar took a step closer to his wife and brought a hand to her waist. By her bloody dress and bare feet he could infer she died on her birthing bed, but what of their child? Would their child not be here if it hadn’t survived, but Dyanna wasn’t, or had his poor girl been robbed of another life before she could live it? “Lya. Our- does our child live?”
She turned around in his arms and beamed at him. “Oh Rhaegar! I birthed our baby boy!”
The woman before him gave him a second son at the cost of her life. He should have been more careful, she was still young, a few years and she’d have been at less risk. At one point he might have been the slightest bit disappointed it was a boy but after the loss of Dyanna and the great sacrifice Lya undertook to birth their son, Rhaegar couldn’t be more grateful. “Thank you Lya. Is he safe, healthy? After Ash and Dyanna… I-I lost the battle at the Trident…”
Beautiful grey eyes looked up at him with a relieved confidence. Her hand rubbed what would have been comforting circles in his skin had his armor not impeded her touch, she just died and here she is giving him comfort, a lousy husband he made. “I know Rhaegar. He is fine. N-Ned promised to protect him from Robert but Rhaegar… Elia and the babes… I named him Aegon for his brother.”
And for his damn prophecy but she didn’t say it aloud, if her husband could have made love to it he probably would have by now. Rhaegar looked around the area, “They’d be here with us if they were truly gone, would they not? Richard must have saved them. My plan must have worked…” While the realization that Elia and her children lived was exciting news, the sad guilty tone in Rhaegar’s soft voice told her there was a price.
"They live?” Lyanna waited for his not so confident nod and felt her heart settle down in a tranquil peace. “I was so scared for them, for me, for Ae-” A realization hit, there can’t be two Aegons that would be confusing and just plain weird for siblings, besides she had just given birth and wasn’t thinking straight. “Jaehaerys. I suppose he didn't look much like an Aegon anyway. You know, it was my first choice and since you didn’t provide a name for a boy, you don’t get a say."
Rhaegar lowered his face to hers, “I accept your terms. I liked the name.”
She scowled at him, “It wasn’t a negotiation.”
“Of course not, as my wife you speak with my voice, we are united.” Rhaegar and his damn words and double speak.
Fluttering her eyelashes at him, “Not currently,” she purred. They could still improve at their baby making even without the whole baby making part. Practice makes perfect, made perfect, Jae was perfect.
Someone coughed, purposely. It didn’t take long to identify who, Brandon the Blocker. Damn him.
Taking advantage of the ruined moment, Lyarra finally asked her question excitedly, “What is this I hear about grandbabies?" Both she and the queen were leaning in expectantly.
Her daughter whipped around so fast Lyarra was scared Lyanna would break her neck. Lyanna bounced on her toes like she did as an excitable little girl, which wouldn’t properly describe her if she did have a son. “I had a baby boy! He had the tiniest little hands! And he made the cutest little noises! I love him even if he could have made it a little easier for me coming out."
Lyarra snorted at her daughter’s joy and the ridiculousness of the last bit. “They never come out easy, only some are easier than others." Eddard was her easiest with Brandon being the worst by far, stubborn little shit didn’t want to leave after already deciding it was his time.
The other mother of the group joined the conversation, “Daenerys was born during the worst storm I’d ever seen on Dragonstone, I could hardly hear my own screams. Rhaegar, despite being patient, couldn't wait one more day, I had to birth him on the grass and covered in ash."
"Jae was like that too. He just had to greet uncle Ned and the Northmen to show them just how much Stark blood he had." Lyanna already missed her babe and wondered how soon she’d see him again. Hopefully not too soon, she wants him to at least have given her a dozen grandbabies before taking his dirt nap, he has to make up for the horde of warrior princesses she couldn’t make with Rhaegar.
“Daenerys?” Rhaegar raised a brow in question to his mother, he could infer that she birthed another child but he wanted to hear from her.
His mother smiled brightly at him. “Yes Rhaegar, you have another baby sister. I don’t know what happened to her, I died in the birthing bed.” He’d never have guessed that she’d died like that. Unlike Lya, she was as well dressed as usual, perhaps she had her servants dress her body to try and hide the birth or to not appear weak in death.
Like always Brandon couldn’t keep his mouth shut and allow the women to enjoy their conversation. “Can we go to the Great Hall? I spend gods know how long in a dungeon and an eternal feast sounds absolutely lovely. Speaking of birthing babes doesn't go well with an empty stomach."
The former lord of Winterfell agreed with the sentiment but wouldn’t admit it, he’d killed men, separate head from body, speaking of babes emerging from their mothers was fine, completely fine, he wasn't queasy at all. “I'd like to see my father and mother as well.” Before he kicked Aerys’ corpse, the bastard deserved more than that. When the putrid smell met his nose, Rickard most certainly did not jump back like some southern girl at the sight of mud. “What do we do with the body?”
“One would have thought it an impossibility to die in the afterlife…” Rhaegar mused. If he was truthful, it was unequivocally for the best that his father did not remain breathing in this land. Death would do his father’s sanity no favors, surely it would only heighten his father’s instability and paranoia.
“I’d say leave him out for the crows and let his blood feed the weirwood but I’d be damned to let it tarnish the beauty and peace of this holy site. Rickard, Brandon drag him into the woods. No one wants to smell that while praying.” Lyarra swipe in front of her face as if to push away the putrid scent of shit.
Brandon nodded in agreement. “He's starting to smell so no objections here." It took him a moment to realize the expectant stares and process his mother’s command. “Wait, no. Objections here. I’m too weak to move him.” The asshole who stole Brandon’s sister should move his own damn stinky father, the outright favoritism!
His mother leveled a stare at him. “If you are healthy enough to kill the man then you can surely drag him with the aid of your father. Besides if you didn’t want to move him then you should have killed him someplace else. This is your responsibility. Besides, this is punishment for you and your father’s treatment of your sister, as well as your stupidity. You also smell nearly as bad.”
He looked to his father who simply looked resigned at the king’s body with that deep frown of his. Brandon tried to smell himself discreetly but couldn’t hide the repulsed reaction of him snapping his nose away from his pits. His mother wasn’t wrong, that didn’t mean he was any happier to touch the king of scabs. At least no one paid attention to the high pitch whine that slipped out his throat.
The former queen’s soft voice returned in a jesting manner, “At least you didn’t smell voluntarily,” Rhaella said to Brandon before looking to her dead husband. “He’s always smelled these past few years…” The delicate nose wrinkled upward with disgust.
Lyanna mimicked her good-mother’s face. “Glad I never got my ‘welcome to the family' hug then."
“You can have one now." Rhaella held her arms open in invitation for her boy’s new wife, she liked this one as much as the others. They were honest and good hearted people and she couldn’t wish for better partners for her eldest. The feeling of having a new daughter in her arms made her think of her little Daenerys being out there somewhere in the realm of the living with only Ser William Darry and Viserys, she hopes they’re okay.
Snuggling into Rhaella, Lyanna couldn’t help but enjoy this welcome into the Targaryen family much better than Aerys’ possible welcome. She didn’t do anything but joust and she was worth a hunt and an attempted abduction. “You’re much more cuddly too!” Her comment caused her embracer to release a sweet laugh.
A nudge on Rhaegar’s arm stole his attention from the heartwarming sight of his mother and wife’s tender hug.
Not so different from his wife’s, another pair of grey eyes looked up at him, his third good-mother. Lyarra gave him a smile. “You want one as well?”
Before Rhaegar could so much as open his mouth to speak, Brandon jumped in between the two having dropped the top portion of Aerys' weight. “Ah ah ah. You have a reputation for stealing Stark women, she deserves better."
Half a second later Brandon had a red spot on his forehead from where his mother flicked him. It seemed like a strong flick, the attack was loud enough to be very audible. Lyarra rolled her eyes at her son. “Don’t be petty, Brandon. Move that corspe already.”
Meek and defeated, Brandon slumped. “Yes, Mother.” Cautiously he picked out where on Aerys he’d hold before he and Rickard started dragging it away into the woods.
Her mother and husband shared a polite formal hug and Lyanna finished with her own embrace skipped across the Godswood floor avoiding pointy sticks and muddy spots as well as she could. By the time she reached Rhaegar she had fallen leaves stuck to her feet, but that was better than humus. Lifting a foot nearly into her husband's face, she took pleasure in the way he leaned away. “Carry me Rhaegar, protect me from all the scary sticks and sharp rocks.”
Rhaegar recovered from his displeasure quick enough and brought a hand up to hold her ankle and relieve her of some of the strain of keeping it there. “You’d think that whichever gods rule this domain would be generous enough to provide you with-” His words were cut off with a gulp as his eyes delved under her dress hem. The twitch of his lips and his pupils expanding explained his distraction. “... slippers and underthings…”
She couldn’t resist laughing. “Perhaps they’re the lecherous type. Many men would crave a whore house for the afterlife, the gods are just voyeurs. No wonder the world is so shit, they’re too busy watching people fuck to care.”
Unlike her husband, her father returned and was not so amused. For a man who tried to sell her for an alliance he cared a bit much for her modesty. “You aren’t wearing…”
Tilting her head incredulously she looked to her father. “Ease of access is rather convenient when giving birth, Father. Look at the bloody mess this dress is and consider that it was pulled to my hips." Lyanna returned her foot to the ground regardless of how much Rhaegar might like the view. She exaggeratingly pulled at her skirts to her father. He backed away from her finally noticing how much blood stained her dress so red.
Her husband offered a solution to her underclothes problem, “You can wear mine, I'm at least wearing breeches."
Lyanna wiggled her brows at him and sent him a flirty look. “Not that you have anything to be ashamed of. Better than wearing your father’s smelling rags and at least you don't wear a codpiece, I don't need to greet my ancestors looking like I have a cock under this."
Snorting, Brandon shook his head. “I disagree, I'd like to see the look on their faces."
“Of course you would, you have the same immature sense of humor as a child and the mind of a beast, fighting and fucking.” It probably undermined her message but she turned, wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and jumped into his hold. “Now, while Rhaegar and I get the underthing situation dealt with, how about you bathe in one of the springs so you don’t scare away our ancestors with your smell.” Lyanna shooed him away with a hand motion, she liked being a princess.
Just as she and Rhaegar were about to leave a babe’s cry rang out through the opening and floating atop the black pool on a little wood raft was a baby. Rhaella was the first to reach it, likely fearing it was her own daughter just as Lya was terrified it may be her little Aeg- Jaehaerys.
Lifting the babe from the raft Rhaella’s heart was racing. The little dark hairs were as much of a relief as they were heartbreaking. With wet tearful eyes she handed the babe to her good-daughter.
His third wife’s lip quivered as she held the babe. As depressing a thought as it was Rhaegar would swear there was a bit of joy at being reunited so soon with her- “Check the gender.”
Her focus snapped to Rhaegar and her voice was scratchy when she spoke, “What?”
Rhaegar’s normally sad looking eyes looked downright inconsolable at the babe. “Dyanna.”
Oh… Lyanna hated the way the very thought relieved her but at the same time she’d rather Ash’s little girl be in the afterlife with them rather than never have any life regardless of the realm because she didn’t get to take a single breath of air. Ashara’s daughter was dead, Lyanna had to remind herself she wasn’t wishing death upon the child but wishing it would live when she hesitantly unwrapped the babe. “It’s her.” She wondered if Rhaegar could feel the way the weight in her heart abandoned her, he was still carrying her after all.
Reluctantly they gave Dyanna to her grandmother so Lyanna could put on some underclothes.
When they returned, there was not just one babe but six. Rhaegar and Rhaella quickly settled her rising nerves by claiming them to be Rhaella’s lost children. Shaena, Daeron, Naerys, Aegon, and Jaehaerys. The last two would make things unnecessarily complicated when Rhaegar’s children finally get here, but Lyanna couldn’t talk she originally named her son after his own brother, as if that wouldn’t look just as stupid in any documentation of their lineage.
“I don’t think my tits are up to feeding all six of them.” Her breasts did feel extra heavy and swollen. Then the painful thought came and she realized she only got to feed Jae once.
Rhaella smiled at her with her clutch of children swarming over her. “My breasts work too, you know, despite what Aerys might believe. If you can feed three that would be nice but wet nurses shall be fine. Here is Dyanna back.”
She took her husband’s daughter back and smiled at the babe's little gurgles. “I can try Rhaella but I don’t know how much I got in these.” Lyanna saw her father look uncomfortable with the topic and laughed, causing little Dyanna to giggle back. “Hello fellow ‘yanna,” she cooed at the little Dayne-Targaryen.
The crunching of leaves gave away Brandon’s return from washing before his voice did. “There I don’t smell like shit anymo-”
“Language!” There are children present!” Mama Stark snapped at her eldest pup.
Brandon took in the sight of all the babes and gulped. “I thought this was the afterlife, not a nursery. I did not die just to wipe more baby butts. I thought I was done after Benjen.”
“I truly pity any poor girls you might have gotten with child. At least they won’t be expecting anything from you anymore.” Lyarra put her head in her palm, her children were always tiring. She has no one to blame but herself, after all she was a she-wolf. The blood of the wandering wolf runs in her babies veins, it only stands they’d be as exhausting as she probably was to raise.