Chapter 31: Passage of Time (2) part 2

If you want to help me financially, you can do it on https://www.patreon.com/NeverluckySMILE

She was surprised at just how…easy it was to forge the connection between the two of them. And it was also, a strange feeling. One moment there was nothing, and then the next she could feel a second presence in her mind. Not dominating her mind, nor could she hear its thoughts. But she could…feel what her horse was feeling. It was beyond strange, yet also beautiful and wonderful. Turning her attention to Drogo, she didn't bother trying to say 'thank you' to him. Several talks with Doreah had educated her that there was no word for 'thanks' in the Dothraki tongue. Instead, she simply gave her husband a slight smile and a nod to show him her appreciation for her gift.

Drogo made to help her up, but she simply grabbed hold of the saddle and swung herself up onto the back of her new mare with the ease of an experienced rider. A feat which drew no small amount of appreciative murmuring from the Dothraki. Then, without waiting for anyone to say anything, Dany snapped the reins and urged her new mare to run as fast as it could towards the setting sun. Behind her, she could hear the hooting and hollering of the Dothraki as they urged her husband to mount his horse and give chase to complete the Dothraki marriage ceremony. 'A dragon is not a beast to be chased,' Dany thought with a smirk as she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw her husband mounting his own horse before giving chase. 'Dragons are the hunters, not the prey.'

Urging her mare to run faster, both with her actions and through the Force, Dany felt a small thrill run through her as the wind blew threw her hair as she guided her mount towards the sea and small section near the shoreline that she'd found earlier after Doreah had explained to her the specifics of a Dothraki wedding ceremony. She knew that the custom was for her marriage to be consummated beneath the sky, but that did not mean that she was willing to have an audience to the act. Pulling her mare to a stop, Dany found the small alcove once again and dismounted before walking towards the soft sand near the edge of the water.

Dismounting her mare, she kept facing the sea even as she heard Drogo's heavy horse coming upon her. Once she heard him slowly approach, she turned around and stared at him. Her warrior husband was still astride his horse and was looking down at her with a mixture of confusion and respect. "A dragon is not prey to be chased, Drogo."

Drogo's head tilted to the side at hearing her speak the Dothraki tongue. Unfortunately, that was all she knew. And it'd taken her some time to even learn that one little phrase. So, when Drogo responded to her, all she could do was continue meeting his eyes while doing all she could to keep any fear and apprehension over what was about to transpire away.

Sliding from his horse, Drogo silently approached Dany as she kept a tight hold on his eyes. The only time their eyes broke from one another is when Drogo slowly started circling her. Her tight hold on her nerves failed her when Drogo reached out and touched her shoulder and she couldn't help the slight flinch that his touch brought to her. "No."

Blinking, Dany turned and looked at her husband. His hand was backed away from her shoulder just a bit and he was staring at her. Lowering his hand, he continued walking around her, occasionally touching her in…mostly appropriate places. Whenever he touched her, if she didn't flinch, he didn't say anything. But if she did, he responded with a simple 'no'. It took her longer than she would admit, but soon she realized just what he was doing. He wasn't just taking her; he was trying to get her used to him. Finally, when Drogo was in front of her once more, she reached out and took hold of his wrist. Meeting his eyes, Dany raised his hand and placed it firmly against her breast. "Yes."

Walking out of the gates of Winterfell facing Winter Town, Robb Stark, Heir to the North, almost didn't even recognize the town laid out before him. Normally, Winter Town was sparsely populated during the Spring, Summer and Fall years yet almost overcrowded during the Winter years. But now, in the midst of a Summer year, the streets of Winter Town were not desolate. Instead, they were a hive of bustling activity as men and women, those both born in the North and those not, went about their daily lives. At first Robb had been hesitant about his father's and Lord Nox's plan on incorporating former slaves from Essos into the Northern way of life. He worried that they wouldn't be able to accept the North as a home nor the old gods. But he had been proven wrong. The former slaves, and even those from the south, took to the North with a zeal he hadn't expected. Some of those who came from the south still held to the Seven-Who-Are-One, but they were very few. And strangely enough, to him at least, almost all of the former slaves from Essos had fully converted to the faith of the old gods. 'Though I don't even know who they used to pray too…but they couldn't have been that benevolent of gods if they allowed such a vile practice like slavery to become the normal way of life.'

Hearing a low rumble that near shook Robb's chest, he glanced to his left and spotted another of the newest additions to Winterfell and Winter Town. The giant, Wun Wun, was standing guard beside the gate, the giant having forgone the normal mismatch of furs that the giants had worn north of the Wall in favor of a mixture of cotton and leather clothing with large pieces of metal scattered across his body to give himself armor akin to the type worn by the men of House Stark. It'd been quite a surprise to everyone in Winterfell when the giants finally showed themselves after walking all the way south from the Wall. Robb's father had ridden out to greet them and speak with the chief of the giants, a large giant even by its own people's standards, named Mag the Mighty. The two had talked for some time out in the open lands around Winterfell, and by the time night was beginning to fall, the giants were once again on their way south. This time heading for the Barrow lands where they would be able to roam free. Only Wun Wun had decided to stay behind. The giant had taken one look at the massive double walls of Winterfell, nodded, and then took seat next to the gate between Winter Town and Winterfell while stating, "Wun Wun, guard wolves". And given the fact that Wun Wun was, well, a giant. No one saw fit to argue with his ability to act as a guard to House Stark.

Giving Wun Wun a nod of acknowledgement, Robb set off towards the bustling Winter Town, without any guards or escort. His mother, may the gods grant her peace, would probably have lost her mind if she knew just how common it was for Robb, or of his siblings, to leave Winterfell without an escort. But lately Robb had found the idea of taking an escort with him, especially just out into Winter Town, a waste of manpower. After all, he had all the protection he needed through the Force and with the lightsaber he always kept on his hip. Besides, there were only three in all of Winterfell that could best him. His lord father, Lord Nox, and his brother Jon. And Jon wasn't even in the North right now.

Walking through the throngs of people, Robb took his time greeting the few that recognized him, all of whom bowed and a few even went to a knee before him in respect. 'Respect for myself, or for what my father and Lord Nox have done for them?' he wondered idly as he accepted the thanks of yet another former slave before moving on. 'Gods be good…I do not know how I will ever be able to carry on my father's legacy once I take over as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. After everything that he and Lord Nox have done for the North and her people…'

Shaking his head to clear it, Robb looked up just as he arrived at his destination. It was a small building with no real discernable markings, but everyone in Winter Town and Winterfell knew what this place was. Opening the door, Robb was struck by a smell he'd come to know quite well. A smell that tingled his nose. A smell that…well for lack of a better word smelled clean. A clean brought about by using a high concentration of alcohol that could catch fire, but according to Lord Nox and Talisa, did wonders for cleaning. And speaking of Talisa, he immediately found her within the main room, speaking to an older woman and holding out a small bottle for her to take.

Catching Talisa's eye, Robb knew well enough to stay near the back lest he incur her wrath by interrupting her while she was dealing with the sick or wounded. Waiting until she was done, Robb pushed himself off the wall he'd been resting against as Talisa went about cleaning up her small workspace. "I told you that I would only be down here for the night and part of the day," Talisa said, not even giving him a chance to properly greet her as she hurried about her clinic, as Lord Nox called it.

"Aye, you did," Robb nodded as he approached her. "However, you said that two days ago. And based on the fact that you didn't realize that, and the dark circles under your eyes, I'm willing to say that you haven't even realized just how long you've been down here. And that you haven't slept a wink either."

Talisa blinked, then looked around as if she were trying to find a way to disprove what he'd just told her. "I–It can't have already been two days… There's still so much to do an—"

"And it can wait," Robb said, walking towards her, stopping only when he was close enough to reach out and touch her, which he didn't do despite how badly he wanted to hold her. "You've berated my father and I more than once about the importance of rest. Well, now it's time for you to take your own advice, Talisa. You need to rest and relax. You've been running yourself hard since even before the southerners left Winterfell moons ago trying to help the people of the North. And the people are appreciative of everything you do, but please. Just for a day. Rest."

Sighing, Talisa glanced around her small work area. Seeing no one else in the small room besides the two of them, Talisa nodded, "I…suppose taking a day of rest will do me good. If for no other reason than to prevent you from using my own words against me Robb Stark."

"Good," Robb smiled, hold out his arm for her to take. "Then the timing should be just about perfect."

Taking his arm, Talisa gave him a firm look. "Timing for what, Robb Stark?"

Smirking, Robb led her towards the door to her clinic. "That is for me to know and for you to find out, my lady."

Walking in silence, Robb and Talisa made their way out into the streets of Winter Town, and almost immediately ran into a pair of stable hands that Robb had arranged to bring his and a spare horse down from Winterfell. On the back on his saddle was a large basket that he'd specifically sent down to the kitchens for as well. And like the loyal friend and companion that he was, Grey Wind was sitting patiently next to the horses' flanks.

"Lord Stark," the stable hand holding the reins to his horse said as they approached the two. "Yer horse, and a horse for da lady. Just like ye asked, milord."

"Thank you," Robb nodded to the two men before taking the reins of his horse as Talisa, after giving him a questioning look, took the reins to her own horse.

"And where are we going, Robb?" she asked as she effortlessly went up into her saddle.

"Somewhere you can relax for a time," Robb responded, not wanting to spoil what he had planned as he hoisted himself up onto his horse and urged his mount forward, towards the outskirts of Winter Town.

The two rode in an easy silence as Robb guided them out of Winter Town and onto a well-traveled path that led into the Wolfswood. The moment they entered the woods, Grey Wind immediately took off into the underbrush, terrorizing or playing with whatever unfortunate creature crossed his path. Laughing, Robb shook his head at his direwolf's actions. "He might be bigger than almost any dogs by this point and capable of taking down even a full-grown stag…but he's still just a pup at heart."

"Just like yourself," Talisa responded lightly as she tilted her head back and breathed deeply.

Not bothering to reply, Robb continued leading them down the path towards his intended destination further in the woods. It wasn't until midday that they finally reached their location, and the look on Talisa's face was well worth the wait. "Robb," she breathed, looking around at where he'd led them.

It was a small clearing near a stream deep within the Wolfswood. But the most noteworthy part of the clearing was the small waterfall that fed into the stream. It was a well-known place for many to visit to rest. Even his father had taken his mother here several times whenever they wanted to be away from Winterfell if even for only a part of the day. It was just as captivating as his father had made the place out to be, and he could only imagine it was even more so during the winter years. Heading over to an area with softgrass, Robb dismounted from his horse and tied the reins to a nearby fallen tree before doing the same for Talisa's horse.

"For generations, the Starks and the people of Winterfell and Winter Town have been coming here for a moment of peace that even the godswood cannot bring them," Robb explained, helping Talisa down from her saddle. "I thought that with everything you've been doing for the North and her people, you of all deserve a moment of peace and relaxation."

Once she had her feet on the ground, Robb immediately went back to his own horse and got the basket and a blanket from the pack the servants had prepared and made a place for him and Talisa to sit on the grass. But even as he laid out the food and drink on the cloth, Talisa remained standing, her eyes fixated on the falling water before them. "I know what you're doing, Robb."

"Oh?" he asked, sitting on the cloth and patting the spot next to him. "And what am I doing?"

The look she gave him was anything but warm. "Do not play the fool with me, Robb. You are not a fool, and neither am I. We know what this, what all of this, is leading towards. And I've told you…It is but a dream. A pleasant dream, but a dream."

"And why must it only be a dream?" He asked. Every time he'd brought this up in the past, she had always evaded him and the conversation, which is why he'd brought her out here, away from everyone else. Not only so that she could relax, but so that she could no longer avoid what they needed to talk about.

Shaking her head, Talisa began a slow pace back and forth before him. "I've been in the North long enough to know her people, Robb. I also know nobility. The Lords, Ladies and smallfolk of the North won't stand for another Lady of Winterfell who is not of the North. At least not one right after the other."

Smirking, Robb was glad that he'd prepared himself well before ever taking up this talk with her. "You say you know the people of the North so well that you know what they want…and you might've even been right about that before. But tell me, Talisa, do you know just how many betrothals or courtship requests my father received before your arrival? At least one a moon from the northern Houses and perhaps as many as two or more from the southern Houses. But since you've been here, since you've shown the North just who you are, how strong you are and what you are willing to do, do you know how many of those same requests my father has been sent from the Houses of the North? None. And do you know why? Because the people of the North already recognize and accept you for who you are and what you might one day become."

Getting to his feet, Robb slowly approached a still Talisa. Reaching her side, he slowly, deliberately, took her hand in his own and held it gently. "Despite not even being born in Westeros, you are as much a Lady of the North as Maege Mormort or even Val. And everyone can see that…except you apparently."

Biting her lip, Talisa couldn't meet his eyes, "Robb…I…"

"Tell me truthfully that you don't want this, Talisa," he said firmly, drawing a quick look from her. "Tell me that you do not have some feelings for me. That you truly have no wish to become the next Lady of Winterfell. That you have no wish to see what children we might have and raise and love together. Tell me to stop, Talisa. To truly stop…and that will be the end of it."

This was the moment of no return. He knew it, and he knew that she knew it as well. And it was on her to make the final decision. He could do nothing but stand there with her hand in his own and with his heart threatening to hammer out of his chest as he waited for her to speak. "Gods damn you, Robb," Talisa sighed heavily. "You're a pain in my arse. You know that, right?"

Smirking confidently, Robb took a step towards her and took her into his arms. "You might want to be careful with a phrase like that now, my love. I've learned a few…interesting ways to respond to that phrase."

Talisa gave him a hard look worthy of any Northern Lady. "Begin acting like that man-whore from Dorne or thinking that I will stand to have us in a similar situation as to the one your brother has stumbled into…and you will find yourself without me by your side or in your bed ever again."

Smiling, Robb leaned his head down so that his forehead was touching hers. "I can live with those terms, my lady. So, does that mean 'yes'?"

Talisa's lips twitched, then her arms slowly snaked up around his shoulders and pulled him close, "Aye, Robb Stark, it's a yes."

Sitting deep within the catacombs of Winterfell with his knees pulled up to his chest and his direwolf resting behind his back, the now youngest of the Stark children Bran Stark sat in silence, watching the dim fire light of the torch bouncing off the statue before him.

A statue depicting his mother and his brother. His mother and brother only passed onto the realm of the gods, or the Force, perhaps a year or two past… But already he was finding it hard to remember them. He could remember his mother's soft voice, the songs she used to sing him when he was scared or when she was putting him to bed. And Rickon…He could remember his laughter. But, with each day that went by, he was starting to forget just what they looked like.

He wanted to go to father and tell him, perhaps his father could do something to help him, or Master Nox. There was nothing that Master Nox nor his father couldn't do! But…But he didn't. He didn't want to admit that he was so weak that he was forgetting what his brother and mother even looked like! He'd been so weak that night when they died. While his brothers and even his sisters were fighting against the ones who broke the laws of gods and men…all he could do was hide in a corner like a craven and pray to the gods and the Force that he would not be found. He never wanted to feel that…helpless again! Which was why he put so much effort into his training under Master Nox. He wanted to be the best knight, or sorcerer, in all of Westeros! He wanted to make sure that what happened to his mother and brother would never, ever, happen again.

"Come on, boy," he said to his still yet unnamed wolf as he stood up, a fact that his brothers and sisters teased him about. But he just hadn't found the right name yet! "Let's go before father or Lord Nox…or gods forbid my brother or sisters come lookin for us."

Casting one last glance towards his mother and brother, Bran set off down the barely lit catacomb passageways towards where he knew the exit to be. As he walked, he gazed down the different pathways that led deeper into the catacombs. His father had always warned them not to wander through the catacombs. After so long of the Starks holding the North and being put to rest beneath it, the catacombs had become what Master Nox referred to as a labyrinth. So whenever he came down here to visit his mother and brother, he kept to the exact route that his father had shown all of them a long time ago.

But this time, as he passed by a darkened passage he stopped. He didn't know why he stopped. He just…felt something was…different. He could see the catacombs being lit with daylight a few turns ahead of him, meaning he was close to the surface. But…he couldn't make his feet move for some reason as that strange…feeling, like cold water being poured down his back, kept him firmly in place.

Hearing his wolf whine, Bran turned and faced down the dark passageway. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong as his father always told him never to go where he didn't know…but he couldn't help himself. There was something close. Something calling out to him. Something that he needed to find!

Holding the light in front of him, Bran slowly made his way deeper into the catacombs, his heart beating hard in his chest as the…feeling grew stronger with each step he took forward. Eventually he found himself almost knocked off as feet as it felt like he took a training sword to the gut. Turning in place, he tilted his head as he found himself standing between two tombs belonging to Starks that he didn't know. The gap between the two tombs was…wider than others. But there was nothing here… Just a blank wall. Yet the feeling that'd led him here told him that there was something here. He just didn't know what. Wedging his torch into the leg of one of the Stark statues, Bran stood before the blank section of wall and stared at the space, trying to figure out just why he'd even come here in the first place.

"Bran!"

Jumping, Bran raised his hands and his direwolf turned ready to face whoever had called out to him. But his hands fell as he spotted his brother Robb, the Lady Talisa, and Theon running through the catacombs towards him. "Robb," Bran said, blinking at all three who were still running towards him. "What is—?"

That was as far as he got as Robb grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him against his chest and held him tight. "By the gods, Bran," his brother said, pushing him back by the shoulders and leaving Bran very confused as to what was going on. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Father is going mad trying to find you…and even Master Nox is confused as to why he couldn't locate you."

Now Bran was really confused. "But…I just wanted to see mother and brother…after my lessons with Maester Luwin."

His brother stared at him, "Bran…How long do you think you've been down here?"

Bran shrugged. "Not long. I came down to see mother right after my lessons…sat before her and Rickon for a little bit…then left."

"Bran," Robb said, his voice sounding strange as he forced Bran to meet his eyes. "Your lessons were done before midday. And now the sun has long since set. You've been missing for almost the entire day."

Bran looked at his brother, trying to see if he was trying to pull a joke on him. But his face was as serious as Bran had ever seen it. "But…I…That's…"

"Come on," Robb said, standing to his full height. "Let's get you out of here and back to father before he fully loses his mind in worry."

"We can't!" Bran said, taking a step back from his brother and facing the wall again. "There's…There's something here. Something that…that called out to me. I know it!"

Just behind his brother, he heard Theon scoff and laugh. "There's nothing down here but bones and stones, Bran."

Bran kept his eyes firmly on his brother, hoping that at least he would believe him. Robb looked unsure, but unlike Theon, he didn't simply brush him off. "Where?"

Bran smiled at having won, even more as he heard Theon scoff. Turning, he nodded towards the wall between the two crypts. "Right there. There's something there, I know it."

His brother gently pushed him off to the side, and Bran let himself be moved as Robb stepped past him and walked up to the wall. Raising his hands, Robb placed his palm against the cold stone walls of the catacombs while Bran stood by and watched, praying to the gods and the Force that he was right and that there actually was something down here.

"Bran's right," Robb said as he took a step back and drew his lightsaber from his hip. The blue blade gave off a light that was brighter than the torches on the walls. Then Robb did something Bran was not expecting. His brother leveled his glowing blade and…thrust it into the walls.

"Carefully," Talisa said, walking up beside his brother as Robb slowly moved his lightsaber within the wall. 'He's cutting through stone like it is nothing! Or…no…That's a wall made up of stones and mortar…and he's cutting along the mortar.'

Slowly, carefully, Robb traced his lightsaber, which was buried almost up to the hilt in the wall, along the path of the mortar between the stones that made up the wall of the catacombs. After completing a circle, Robb took his blade out from the wall and made it disappear. Raising his hand, Bran could feel something shift as he knew his brother reached out through the Force. Slowly, and with a grinding that hurt his ears, a stone slab the size of a man's chest came away from the wall and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Bran had to push himself up on his toes, trying to see what was behind the slab that Robb had removed, but all he could see was darkness behind the stone. Leaning close, Robb stared through the hole he'd made. "Give me a torch," he said, holding out his hand, which Theon immediately put a burning torch into.

Raising the torch, Robb pushed the fire into the hole. The flames went into the darkness, then the handle, and then most of Robb's arm. "There's a passageway behind here," his brother said, withdrawing his arm and torch before handing the torch off to Talisa, "Theon, give me a hand clearing the way."

Bran was surprised when Theon didn't make any comment and instead got right to work aiding his brother in removing the stones from the wall one at a time while he stood next to Talisa, nearly bouncing with excitement. 'I did it! I found something worthwhile! I just know it!'

The two eventually managed to clear away enough stones so that Robb could squeeze himself through while turned sideways. Once he was through, Bran watched as the blue glow from his brother's lightsaber lit up whatever was on the other side of the wall. "It's safe to come through," his brother said, and Bran wasted no time in rushing forward and squeezing himself through the opening that Robb and Theon had created. The room beyond was… Well, he wasn't sure just what he'd been expecting or hoping for…but…

"Well, little wolf," Theon chuckled as he held his torch high and looked around the newly found room. "It looks like you managed to find a tomb…within a tomb."

"But a tomb for whom?" Talisa asked quickly, raising Bran's spirits slightly and making him hope once again that he'd found something of use. "This tomb…It was never used. The stone casket in the center of the room is open and empty…and these markings…They're everywhere. The walls. The casket. Even the floor and ceiling are covered in them. And I've never seen their like before. Perhaps a dialect of the old tongue?"

"No…they aren't," Robb said, his brother was standing still over the open and empty casket with his lightsaber held high to provide light. "You're right…These are not just markings but a written language…but it's not the Old Tongue. This…I've seen these symbols before."

Lowering his blade, Robb looked more serious than Bran had ever seen him as he turned to Theon. "Theon. Go and get my father and Lord Nox. Tell them that my brother Bran has just discovered the unused tomb of Bran the Builder. The founder of House Stark."