A MOTHER'S WARMTH

Author's Note: This is a non-profit fanfiction based on A Song of Ice and Fire. It is part of a larger story world I plan to adapt into an original novel. All names, places, and affiliations may change in the future.

RUYAN

She left Robb in the imperial rest house, entrusting him to Master Wei and a personal servant who would attend to all his needs. The young Stark heir needed to be properly prepared before meeting any other royalty besides herself. As she walked along the familiar pavilion path leading to the Empress' garden, Ruyan couldn't help but feel a piercing sense of disappointment in herself.

Her mission had not truly succeeded, hasnt fully failed either. Though her trusted aides had given her an option to salvage what she can only consider as hald success, the path forward would be much harder now. Even if she did secure the alliance—even if Robb eventually agreed to wed her before returning to Winterfell—she would still need to win over his family and the North twice over.

The mere thought gave her a throbbing headache. Northerners were notorious for their pride, and as their saying went, "THE NORTH REMEMBERS." She would forever be branded as their version of a female Rhaegar Targaryen.

She reached the gardens to find her mother carefully selecting peony flowers, her favorite. Ruyan watched in silence, waiting for the Empress to speak first, as court etiquette demanded. After handing the last bloom to the maid who held a basket beside her, her mother turned, giving Ruyan the warm smile she had missed for so long.

How she had missed her mother. She had been away for more than two years since setting off on her mission.

"My dear daughter," the Empress said, her voice gentle yet carrying the unmistakable authority of her position. "Welcome back. I assume you come bearing news from the North. Your last letter only mentioned your success with the Daynes."

"Robb Stark has been brought to YiTi," Ruyan answered, her tone carefully neutral. "To be enlightened about our empire."

Her mother, who knew her better than anyone, smiled with amused understanding. "Are they as stubborn and prideful as the court claims?"

"It is not a claim, mother," Ruyan replied evenly. "It is a statement of fact."

The Empress studied her daughter's face, reading the subtle signs of strain that others would miss. "And what will you tell the Emperor about these recent developments?"

Ruyan couldn't help but feel the dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. Her father was a man of singular focus, and never once had she failed him. From academics to martial pursuits, her records were exemplary, always at the top. Never had she given him reason to doubt her capabilities—until this recent failure.

Her mother stepped closer, adjusting a stray lock of Ruyan's hair with maternal tenderness that belied her imperial bearing. "Your father values results, but he also values resourcefulness. The path has changed, but the destination remains the same."

"I fear his disappointment more than his anger," Ruyan admitted, allowing a rare moment of vulnerability before her mother.

"Then show him there is no reason for either," the Empress advised. "You have brought the heir to Winterfell to our empire. Now use that opportunity to win what could not be won through diplomacy alone."

Ruyan straightened her posture, drawing strength from her mother's confidence. "I will not fail a second time."

"I know you won't," her mother said with a serene smile. "Now, join me for dinner. Tell me everything that happened during your absence. The real stories, not the formal reports."

As they walked together through the flowering paths of the garden, Ruyan felt some of her burden lighten. Tomorrow would bring the audience with her father, but tonight, she would reconnect with her mother and gather the strength she would need for the challenges ahead.

Sleep evaded her like a cunning prey animal, staying just beyond her grasp no matter how she pursued it. Ruyan finally surrendered to wakefulness, rising from her bed with a silent sigh. The silk sheets whispered as she moved, her bare feet making no sound on the polished wooden floor. She crossed to the balcony doors and slid them open, stepping out into the cool night air.

The sight that greeted her was one she had known since childhood, yet it never failed to stir something deep within her. The Empress Palace spread before her, a magnificent sprawl of tiered roofs and elegant pavilions, all connected by graceful bridges spanning the sacred lakes. In the full moon's light, the azure tiles gleamed with an ethereal blue luster, and the golden ornaments adorning the roof peaks caught the light, twinkling like earthbound stars.

The mountains loomed beyond, jagged sentinels wrapped in mist, their peaks sharp against the night sky. Between their ancient slopes, tendrils of fog drifted like the breath of slumbering dragons. The stories claimed the first emperors had tamed such beasts, riding them into battle and commanding the very elements—tales that most dismissed as mere legend. But her father believed differently.

The magic in their bloodline was real, she herself was evidence enough but the emperor would want it to manifest to a future emperor, no matter how many generations in the future. She sometimes whished that her gift manifested in one of his brothers, that would make things easier. A prince with magical gift is evidence of mandate of heaven enough, but alas it skipped them and appeared in her blood.

Thus here she was, tasked to birth a daughter with possible gifts to be married to a future crown prince. At least with their empire, incest of such close consanguinity is abhorred or else she would have to marry Xian. The thought of it made her gag. Thinking aside, that was the mistake of the Targaryens. They kept their magical bloodline pure…without thinking of the consequences.

Ruyan leaned against the carved stone balustrade, her gaze far reaching the heavens. Her father would soon judge her failure—or at least, her complicated success.

Yes, she had secured Robb Stark. But not through diplomacy or persuasion as intended. The means might be forgiven if they achieved the Emperor's ends, but the political complications were undeniable.

The moonlight painted silver paths across the water, leading to the central island where her mother's gardens flourished. Even from this distance, Ruyan could make out the willows swaying gently in the night breeze, their graceful forms reflected in the still water. Tomorrow, she would walk those familiar paths with her mother, discussing strategies and contingencies, preparing for her audience with her father.

She thought of Robb Stark's face as he had gazed upon Yin for the first time—the carefully controlled awe, the stubborn determination not to be impressed, the flicker of wonder he couldn't quite suppress. She had seen a similar expression on her own face, reflected in palace mirrors years ago, when she had returned from her first diplomatic journey to distant Qarth. Some wonders transcended cultural barriers. Some knowledge was too valuable to be rejected out of hand, even by the proudest heart.

Perhaps that was the key. Not to break Robb Stark's pride, but to channel it. To show him that embracing new knowledge didn't mean abandoning his heritage, but rather enriching it. The North had survived for eight thousand years, yes—but could it not do more than merely survive?

She would not apologize for failure because she had not failed—not yet. The path to success had merely taken an unexpected turn. The alliance she sought was still possible, still within reach. It would require patience, wisdom, and perhaps a measure of humility she had not anticipated needing, but those were qualities a true daughter of YiTi should possess in abundance.

Ruyan straightened, drawing herself to her full height as she gazed once more at the moonlit palace complex. Tomorrow would bring its challenges, but tonight, under the same moon that shone on both YiTi, she would prepare herself for the battles to come.

Not battles fought with swords and spears, but with ideas and opportunities. With possibilities.

She turned and walked back into her chambers. As she slid the doors closed behind her, she caught one last glimpse of the Empress Palace, gleaming like a jewel in the moonlight. Not for the first time, Ruyan found herself wondering what Winterfell looked like under a full moon, with snow blanketing its ancient stones.

Perhaps, if she succeeded in her task, she would someday see it for herself—not as an unwelcome visitor, but as a bride.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63782263/chapters/163541347