Work Text:
Myrcella,
If you are reading this, I am dead and Theon is Lord of Winterfell. I know that you will have other concerns, but I beg you now - do not let Aegon and Daenerys influence you in this. Raise Theon as a Stark and Arys as a Lannister, and remember that I love you all more than I can bear.
I had hoped to remain at Winterfell until you returned, but the weather that proved so lucky for us was a scourge to you, I am told, and so I will have to remember you at Riverrun. Remember me there, too, and not as the bones that will be returned if I die.
We were happiest at Riverrun, I think - with Rickard, then with the twins. If you are reading this, then I will not have the chance to make Winterfell your home in more than name. Try, though, because it is Theon's home, will be Arys' home until he leaves for Old Oaks, has been the home of House Stark for longer than any of us can say. You may have been born a Baratheon and a Lannister, but you are a Stark now, Myrcella. Do not forget that when it seems the North remembers too much and winter has come too harsh. You are a Stark of Winterfell, my lady wife, the mother of three more Starks. You are one of us.
If the time comes and you wish to marry again, do not refrain from doing so out of some sort of misguided loyalty to me - provided any other man's sons do not attempt to usurp Theon's place, all I could ever wish for is your happiness. You were made for happiness, Myrcella, not for the grief I have given you, and I would see you happy again, even if it is not from this world.
I love you. I have loved you almost from the day I met you, and I will always love you.
Your husband,
Robb.