In the late and harsh winter of the same year, the screams of Lady Gilliane Glover filled Winterfell's Keep. Screams like she was a lamb taken to slaughter would haunt Daenys for the rest of her life. With the hopes that the labour would be as smooth as it was with Cregan, Gilliane wished to have Daenys present in the chambers, to be able to see how it will go once she is with child. All in good hopes, of course, as Gilliane was now the only mother figure left for the young princess. But plans never go the way people want them to go.

The Maesters recognized the babe was placed horizontally in the Lady's belly and not vertically as it was supposed to be, meaning the babe's shoulders would be first to come out. How they would deal with it – they had no idea. Daenys held her arms under Lady Gilliane's armpits, helping her walk around the chambers to ease the pain. All without any succession as her screams only grew louder with each step she took. Her fingers gripped the sleeve of Daenys' dress, muttering through the pain, "I am so sorry, sweet girl – I did not know this would happen."

"It is not your fault, my lady," Daenys breathed out as Gilliane leaned on her arm for support again as the chambers continued in chaos, "please do not apologize. Everything will be fine."

"No," Gilliane sucked in a short-hitched breath, head shaking left to right, "it will not be."

"My lady, do not speak such things," the princess replied, her hand on the lady's lower back once Gilliane leaned against the wall with both hands, crimson red blood dripping down her legs, "I am sure the Seven will grant you this child. You shall see – in the mor you will hold a healthy babe in your arms."

Gilliane shook her head, eyes shut close, teeth gritting as she let out a groan of pain, "oh, sweet girl."

"My lady," Maester Kennet approached them, voice lingering with obvious concern, "we must get you to bed. We need to start this."

Gilliane sucked in another shaky breath, tears falling down her cheeks in the same manner as blood started to puddle under her bare feet. She pulled herself away from the wall, Daenys quickly placing her arms around her again, helping her waddle to the bed where the ladies in waiting were already waiting. Once they reached the side of the bed, Daenys was pushed back, the ladies already working on the crying lady of Winterfell. Maester Kennet approached the shaky girl whose fingers fidget, "my princess. I do advise you to leave the chambers. Seek your lord husband."

Daenys looked up at the man with wide eyes, "but the lady-"

"There is nothing you can do now," he interrupted her, "but I am sure Cregan would appreciate your presence."

The girl nodded her head. She glanced through the crowd by the bedside and to lady Gilliane whose eyes were shut close when another shock of wave passed through her body, lips falling open in a scream. The blood was sticking to her thighs, to the sheets, to the hands of the women that tried to clean it off. Daenys torn her gaze from the sight and got out of the chambers. She leaned backwards against the doors, letting out a shaky breath before she found herself running down the hallways and to the Godswood where she knew Cregan was.

Daenys couldn't bother to grab a cloak as she ran through the crowded hallways and out in the open – which would usually result in a scolding from Grand Maester Orwylle. She reached the Godswood, struggling to get through the thick snow, seeing Cregan looking up at the big tree. As if he sensed she was there, he asked, "is my mother alright?"

Daenys reached his side, breathless, "she has gone into labour."

Once he finally tore his gaze from the tree, his eyes landed on the sheer dress his wife wore. His eyes blew open and wide, "have you gone mad?"

"I have been told that, yes," she tried to joke before she realized it was not the time to do so. Before she was able to apologize, Cregan pulled his fur cloak off his shoulders, wrapping it around hers, "Cregan, no."

"I am not the sick one here," he argued back, twisting the edges of the cloak, bringing it together, "my mother?"

She searched his eyes but he couldn't look in hers, looking down at where he was fixing the cloak, "the babe is not in the right position."

Daenys swears she could hear his heart break. His fingers stopped, "will she be alright?"

There was a moment of silence and Cregan knew what it meant. His fingers dropped from the edge of the cloak, moving further in the Godswood and away from Daenys, "Cregan."

"My mother is a dead woman walking," he breathed out, unable to hold back tears as he struggled through the high fresh snow.

"The Seven will give her strength," she tried to calm him, struggling to keep up after him.

"The Seven do not care about her!" Cregan yelled out suddenly, whipping his head around to look at Daenys who stopped in her tracks.

There was a moment of silence where only Cregan's hitched breathing was heard, "sorry for yelling."

"You are in pain, do not apologize," she replied, though she was unable to move from her spot, her fingers twisting the wolf ring Aegon gifted her.

He breathed out once more before he collapsed on his knees on the thick layer of snow, unable to contain tears. Daenys moved to his side, kneeling in front, finger aching to touch his skin. He sobbed out, trying to get her to stand, "Daenys – no – stand, you will get sick."

"Stop," she tried to swat his hands off her as he continued to try to get her off the snow, "Cregan – Cregan, stop."

He only stopped when she successfully placed her hands on his cold and wet cheeks, making him look at her – same watery lilac eyes, "stop, please, I am not leaving."

Cregan was sure he was dead when he nodded, lips quivering with a whisper, "you will get sick."

Daenys shook her head, "I will not, do not fret for me."

What Cregan feared came true – lady Gilliane of House Glover, his beloved mother, died in the early mor after his father allowed Maester Kennet to cut her open like a lamb in order to get the babe out. By then, she lost too much blood. Her babe lived to see the first lights of the sun but died soon after. The entire Keep accompanied the two remaining Lords of the North under the castle and to the passage of crypts where they took the Lady Gilliane and Lord Brandon for their final rest. All but princess Daenys who contracted a fever and Maester Kennet prohibited her from leaving her chambers. The girl sobbed through the whole day – feeling guilty for not being there when they buried Gilliane and for not being there for Cregan.

Despite the constant begging from Maester Kennet of her staying in the warmness of the bed, the blood of the dragon never obeys anyone. Daenys' feet dragged her down the long, cold and empty hallway of the Keep, her fingers twisted around the edge of a cloak she wrapped around herself. She'd walk further in the castle if the clicking of stones wouldn't stop her curious mind. Peeking through the ajar doors, her eyes watched as a boy threw small rocks towards a wall. From where he sat on the cold floor – as if he sensed a presence – he looked up and caught the lilac eyes staring at him, hiding behind the doors. He didn't speak for a moment, mouth slightly opening and closing like a fish. Finally, he spoke, "you should not be here."

Daenys gripped the knob, head tilted to the side where her temple met the edge of the doors, "why?"

"Everyone is at the funeral," he replied with a shrug, looking away in favour of throwing the small rocks towards the wall once more.

"Not everyone," she responded with the same shrug, "why are you not there?"

The boy out a noise – a mix of a chuckle and a snort, "as if he would want me there."

Her brows furrowed, "who?"

He looked at her presence by the ajar doors once more, "rumours do not travel to King's Landing so fast, I assume."

"I do not know what you mean," Daenys replied with furrowed brows as she watched him pull himself off the ground.

The chambers were small in comparison to hers – a little bed decorated with only one pillow and some old sheets that seemed to never be washed. There were two small windows and no fireplace. She wondered how he keeps the cold from getting to him. He walked across the small room, his hand yanking the ajar doors open, only to make an overall dramatic bow, "your Grace."

She knew it was a joke, a dramatic statement. But still she shook her head, fingers pressed to the wolf ring, "I am not your Grace."

He straightened back up, a smile tugging on his lips, "very well aware of that. Though the North has not seen a Targaryen princess in years."

Daenys' brows furrowed again, "who are you?"

"Theon," he responded without missing a beat, proudness in his voice despite his name, "Theon Snow."

"Snow?" she asked.

"Snow," he confirmed.

Still confused, she asked, "there is House Snow?"

Theon chuckled – either at the naiveness of the princess or at the situation, "Gods, do they not teach you at thing at Red Keep?"

Daenys bit her tongue, "not about Snow."

"No one teaches anyone about Snow," he replied, fingers tapping against the knob he held, "Snow is a bastard surname. I am a bastard."

As if she connected the dots, Daenys asked in a hushed voice, "Lord Rickon's?"

"Lord Rickon's," Theon confirmed, bitterness echoing through his words, not bothering to speak in a hushed voice, the truth was known for years.

"So, you are Cregan's brother?" uneasiness was heard in her voice, her eyes searching his face to see any signs of him lying but she saw none.

"Half-brother," he clicked his tongue, "he never lets me forget it."

Daenys couldn't believe it – a man as kind as Rickon Stark was to her broke his oath to the poor lady Gilliane, seeding bastards elsewhere. As if he saw her thinking, Theon spoke, "do not fret, my princess. My brother may be many things, unfaithful is the last thing that Cregan would be."

"Many things?" she echoed his words, finally looking at him.

Theon smiled – not mean, "you will learn."

Before she could speak further, he nudged his head to the side, "now, run off, rabbit. Before the big bad wolf catches you."

Daenys shook her head with a smile but Theon spoke, "and by the big bad wolf I mean Kennet. If he sees you out of bed, I am sure he will descend in madness. Madder that he already is."

She nodded her head slowly, fingers gasping the edges of her cloak to pull it across her chest once more, taking a step back, not looking away from Theon. He nodded his head to her before she turned around and walked down the hallway, unaware his eyes lingering after her.