SONG: Outro by M83

Fianna

Sansa's coronation ceremony had been truly spectacular, even if Robb had clasped Fianna's hand as tightly as possible for the duration of it. In his eyes, the redhead was still the same little girl who threw tantrums every time Arya even glanced at her a certain way. Now, she was standing at the top of the Great Hall and poised to take a seat on a throne that was never made for her bloodline, as the most beautiful and deserving Queen Westeros had ever seen.

True to her personality, Sansa had tailored the coronation to be perfect down to the most minute of details. The stained glass windows that littered the walls that once bore the sigil of a lion, were now shaped in the unmistakeable form of a direwolf's head. The Queen was proud of her lineage, and that was unlikely to change after permanently relocating to the South once again. They had overextended their stay for several days to see her befitted with a crown and to give Jon and Arya a proper goodbye, but even then they were antsy to return North and to their children.

Arya's idea to travel West had initially seemed ludicrous to Robb, but after a gentle talking down and a promise to return within five years, the youngest Stark sister managed to convince her stubborn-headed brother that it was the best decision she could have made for herself. Bran had led them all to the conclusion that every single step taken in their life thus far had been a precursor to where they had landed, and Arya was simply too well-trained and equipped to spend her days dutifully standing beside her family. Sansa had justly offered her the chance to join her Queensguard and be the Knight she had always longed to become, but the brunette had simply shrugged and said "perhaps when I've gotten old, and it's more of a fair fight."

Jon notion had seemed somewhat less ridiculous, as he had announced the eve before of his intentions to join the Free Folk and live as a free man, further North than they could ever imagine. Robb and Fianna could guess why he would consider such a venture after he admitted some of his happiest days were above the wall - where titles nor lands didn't matter. How truly ironic it was, Jon had joined the Night's Watch to free himself from the title of 'bastard', and now he was leaving to live above what remained of the wall to free himself from the title of 'Heir to the Iron Throne'. Although he didn't intend on leaving without assuring his brother, sister and cousin would promise to visit and trial the ways of the Free Folk. Some day.

The common folk of King's Landing had only begun to warm to their new Queen, although Fianna suspected they mainly prayed that it would be the last coronation for at least a short while. Many were too busy grieving to even attempt to line the streets so the people could see their new leader for the first time.

Patiently, the remaining Starks had gathered in the garden to wait for their red-haired sister to join them for the final goodbye. As Jon and Arya saw little point in returning to Winterfell, only to leave again for their desired destinations. Before, Fianna would have felt like an outsider among them. Her family line may have died with Tiernan, but she still had found a home with the Stark clan.

"What happened to Drogon?" Jon inquired suddenly, directing his question towards his wheelchair-bound brother.

"The dragon flew East after the battle ended, carrying Daenerys in his claw before laying her to rest at the place she was born," Bran replied ever so solemnly, leaving the others to digest his revelation.

"Dragonstone?" Fianna voiced with a quizzical tone.

"No, a desert in Vaes Dothrak," he answered, surprisingly continuing on with an explanation before anyone had to question further. "Daenerys may have been born at Dragonstone, but she was reborn alongside her dragons at the funeral pyre of her late husband. Nothing remains there now but charred dirt, but I suppose the creature found it a suitable place to lay her to rest."

Fianna supposed there was no where else she could have personally chosen to bury the fallen Queen. Dragonstone may have been her birthright, but it had never been a home to Daenerys. Meereen was simply too far to ponder about, and had only been a stepping stone in her journey towards the Iron Throne. Perhaps if Drogon had not taken her, Fianna would have buried the Dragon Queen alongside the burial grounds of her own family. For that is exactly what the Targaryen was to her, despite everything - family.

"I am sorry for keeping you all waiting, many Lords wanted to meet with me personally," Sansa's voice interrupted the strange atmosphere, appearing alongside her own personal guards before gliding towards them as if she were walking on water. Robb marvelled at the sight - she had never been so truly comfortable with herself, nor had she ever looked as happy and content. Sansa was the Queen she had always wanted to be, and he couldn't have been prouder.

"Looking for your hand in marriage, I'd guess," Arya snorted as the taller sister joined her side.

"If only I had an assassin sister who would stay by my side and tell them off," Sansa's lips quirked as she tentatively fiddled with the position of her direwolf crown, her perfect image falling as she found she was able to relax in front of her family.

"I'll find you someone out West who won't mind that you get gaseous after too many sips of milk."

As if Fianna's mere presence was enough of a reminder of the man she had found who was already perfect enough for her, Sansa glanced towards the Northern Queen before looking down and swallowing harshly. The memory of Tiernan Bua wouldn't dull any time in the near future, that was for certain.

"That reminds me," she suddenly lifted the intricate scroll tucked into her hand, offering it toward Fianna, "I thought you would like to have this."

Fianna quirked a brow as she took the letter, her heart falling slightly in her chest as she noticed the sigil that kept it sealed. The wolfhound's paw print that she had grown up drawing and sewing.

"It's the original document of your betrothal," Sansa explained as all eyes were suddenly transfixed on the newly emotional brunette. "I found out while you both travelled South, I think it may be of some interest to you.

"It states that in the event of your marriage, the ownership of Baelfort will fall to your second born child - who will bear the Bua name instead of Stark to protect your lineage."

"T-... thank you," Fianna managed after clearing her throat, meeting Robb's knowingly concerned eye before dropping her arms by her sides. "I always wondered if father had intended for Baelfort to fall under Stark rule, we would never have known otherwise."

"Given that this is our last goodbye for some time, I'll go first," Robb diverted attention from her, aware that she was becoming uncomfortable with the pointed stares. "I would rather have Rickon present, but he'll hear all about it when we return.

"I'm the eldest of us all, and even before father encouraged me to take care of you as the future Lord of Winterfell, all I ever wanted was to protect my family. When he died and I knew that Sansa and Arya were being held in King's Landing, I would have torn every building down from Wintertown to the Red Keep to save you both from that inbred little prick. But I was a King, and I had to think of my duty as well as my sisters. Then Rickon and Bran were chased from our home, and I had never felt like such a failure. I was the man of our household, out fighting battles that didn't make a difference when my family were still on opposite corners of the world.

"But the lone wolf died, and the pack survived. I love you all, despite our differences. Even you Bran, although I'm not so sure you are even Bran any more. I hope that a day comes where we're all together like this again, and that things don't go as badly as they did the last time we seperated."

"Well the last time we separated you were better looking than I was," Jon joked, clapping his brother on the back and coughing to mask the rising emotion in his voice. Not a single Stark member failed to be touched by his words - even Bran, who had initially barely blinked upon meeting them once agin.

"I promised to come back," Arya coughed, eyes beginning to spill over with tears that her brother never thought he'd see. "If I can kill the Night King I can survive a boat trip."

"Well Westeros has had five rulers in the last decade and all perished, so who knows what my chances are," Sansa sniffled, using her height to drag an unwilling Arya into her side for an embrace. "But there's only so much the Gods can put me through, I think they've tried everything once by now."

"We've all led such different journeys," Jon added, the goodbyes turning into speeches by each of the siblings, "but it was all worth it in the end to see my siblings again, alive and happy. It's a rather funny term that, siblings. All I ever wanted was to be your brother."

"You always were," Robb cleared his throat, swallowing a growing lump and an excited smirk as he slipped a letter of his own from inside his cloak. "But if you'd like it in writing..."

"What is this?" Jon's brows furrowed as he gently took the scroll between his charred and callused fingers.

"You always hated the name Snow, and I'm aware that Aegon Targaryen doesn't feel quite right to you either. It's a certificate of legitimisation, if you choose to accept it, signed by the King in the North. It's something I should have done a long time ago, but I was a little too preoccupied to start calling you Jon Stark."

Jon's hands shook ever so slightly as he read over it several times to make sure he wasn't being fooled, but it there as plain as day - Robb had used his power to give his brother what he always wanted, the Stark name.

Fianna had stayed to the side while a series of embraces had broke out, watching dutifully with a warm smile and finding tears of her own springing. She tried desperately to blink them away - this wasn't the last time she would see them; she was certain.

"Don't start another war until I get back," Arya's voice suddenly brought her out of a daze, finding that the smaller woman had marched up to her seemingly out of nowhere.

"I wouldn't dream of fighting without my best soldier," Fianna beamed, unable to help herself as she dragged the brunette forward into a bone-crushing hug. "Even though I could still beat you one-on-one."

"With that leg?" Arya huffed a laugh against Fianna's dress, leaning back in her arms so they could meet eyes once again. It was no secret they were the closest out of all of her husband's brothers and sisters - Arya and Fianna had found each other at a low point alongside Tywin Lannister, teetered back together until they found their way to Robb and managed to stay side by side during some of the most pivotal moments of their lives to date. Regardless of Fianna's marriage, Arya and the Northern Queen were sisters in their own right. But there was little need for tears to be shed that day - Arya would come home, Fianna knew it well.

"Are you ready to go home?" Robb's voice interrupted the hug the two were enveloped in, breaking them apart reluctantly and casting their eyes downward so the emotion on their faces wasn't to be seen.

"Yes."

"Don't be stubborn, Aifric," Fianna lightly scolded, knowing that the girl's cool reaction to their arrival home was fair given how upset she had been at their departure. But the parents hadn't lied when they said it would be their final trip, the Seven Kingdoms were at peace for the first time in years under two separate and just rulers. It would be years before the damage from the battles could be fully reversed, but there were no two better leaders for the task than Robb and Sansa.

Eddie, of course, didn't care to remain blasé about his parents homecoming and melted into their arms as soon as they were within distance. Perhaps Aifric was more Bua in her mannerisms than Stark, which would suit her future reign as Lady of Baelfort just nicely.

"Haven't you missed us, little lady?" Robb called out to her, patting the top of Eddie's head once before slowly approaching his daughter. Aifric didn't reply, instead choosing to stare at the snowy ground beneath her and swallow thickly. Many would see it as a temper tantrum, but Robb had spent every moment he could since returning to his family getting to know the twins. Aifric was trying her damnedest not to cry at that moment, and thought if she were to hug her father it would unleash the flurry of tears she was holding back.

Unable to hold back any longer once he crouched before her, Aifric choked on a sob and threw her small body forward onto her father. Immediately, Robb wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to his chest and returning to his wife and son - who were both teary-eyed and emotional themselves.

"We're not leaving again, sweet girl," Fianna promised into the crook of her ear, resting her head against the side of Aifric's reddened hair.

"You promise?" She voiced, throat thick with sobs that left her raspy-toned and heart-breaking.

"I promise," Fianna vowed once more, lifting Eddie up into her arms so they could enjoy the moment together as a family. It was hard to tell how long they remained in that position - any bystanders who requested Robb's presence to greet with the Northern lords were shut down quickly with a wave of a hand. They had all the time in the world to treat with the High Lords of the North, but moments with family were always fleeting.

When the time came that the twins grew antsy to jet off, Robb and Fianna set the children down where they promptly were met with a waiting Grey Wind. The large direwolf nearly knocked his master over in his haste for attention, receiving a hug in return from Robb himself. Rickon had been waiting for their moment to break too it appeared, standing patiently nearby as he suddenly appeared to give Fianna a welcoming hug.

"So a Stark in King's Landing and a Stark in Winterfell, we'll be taking over the world soon," he bantered, returning Robb's hug when it was extended to him.

"Thank god for Sansa, maybe I'll be able to rest easy tonight for the first time in eight years," Robb sighed with exasperation, running his hand over his curls.

"Knowing our luck, the Free Cities will invade next," Fianna rolled her eyes, eliciting a laugh from her two companions. "What about you, Rickon? You're almost a man grown now, surely you've thought about what route you would like to take."

"I have," the curly-haired teenager shrugged, "I was always too young to fight alongside you. And now the war is over, I still want to be the Knight I ached to be since I was a boy. I'm aware that the practice is rather Southern in nature, but with your permission, I'd like to set up our own version of a Kingsguard. Your reign has been short but horrifically bloody, I'd like to ensure that our days continue to be peaceful now that the North is a truly independent kingdom. Although I'll need a little more help with my training."

"There's no one I would trust more at my side," Robb beamed, giving his younger sibling a familial clap on the shoulder as they began to retreat indoors. There would be much work to do in the coming weeks - with food reserves at an all time low and Winterfell and Last Heart in ruins. Trade deals would need to be set up with Dorne if they hoped for food, which would be a more difficult feat now that the two kingdoms were not under the same rule. But although Ned Stark wasn't aware of it at the time, he had been raising Robb to be a King all his life.

Bran

For the first time in days, Bran decided to check in on the situation above the wall. Most of his abilities as of late had involved keeping a watchful eye on Drogon as the magnificent dragon mindlessly sailed overseas. Much like a boat without a captain, the red-winged beast was struggling to find his direction without a rider.

It would be some years until Drogon would allow another to climb aboard his back and sail the skies again, for dragons simply lived too long to ever be tied down to one rider. When the next rider would arise and steer the creature to their will, it would be when Westeros needed it most - as was their purpose. Everyone alive in their world had one - a true higher calling, that was as impactful for one person killing another as it was someone simply closing a door. They were all apart of a game orchestrated by a higher power that even Bran knew little of.

That power, be it man or one of many Gods, was only drawing its current act to conclusion. But it wasn't the end of the play.

Bran could have told the others that their victory hadn't been a complete triumph after all, but that would disrupt the years of rebuilding that Westeros sorely needed. Nevertheless, the great threat would take years to rebuild enough to even begin their march South. Much like how Daenerys Targaryen returning to Westeros allowed for the Army of the Dead to be defeated, it would take Drogon's return to find his next rider for the living to be able to stand a chance.

Sure enough, the birds he manipulated flew high into the sky, farther North than anyone could have even dreamed of exploring, let alone inhabiting. Their wings crusted with developing ice as the bitter winds flew against them in protest, the air growing harsher the closer the birds grew to the children.

As expected, they were as they had been in the days before - several Children of the Night playing around a lake as if they were in the least bit mundane. Many looked alike, a consequence of being Craster's inbred offspring, and all connected by their icy skin and vibrantly blue eyes. Their chests were marred with a long line, an indication of the exact position the Night King had plunged a dagger of dragonglass into their infantile chests to turn them into more than just White Walkers - but direct heirs, that could continue on in the event of his demise.

Bran Stark had no choice but to keep his lips sealed, as they would be for a long time until Westeros was ready once again for another Great War. For there would never be a time in history that either side would win completely - such was the song of 'ice and fire'. Perfectly balanced, with one never overcoming the other.

Fianna

If one had told Fianna Bua nearly a decade before that she would ever spend a day in her life in Winterfell, happily married and peacefully watching her children beneath play blissfully - she would have laughed and derived a rather rude comment from the gut of her throat. But now, standing on top of a balcony and looking down as Aifric and Eddie squabbled over who exactly had won their previous duel, she couldn't have pictured a life where she would be the least bit happier.

Fianna had heard the rumours - that she was 'kissed by the God of Death', and for a time believed them to be true. Many who she had come to love had died in the brutal years predating that moment. The world was less than kind to her at any one point, robbing her of her family and the love of her life. But the Gods has returned Robb to her, and given her a new family to pour her affections into. If handing over her sword meant that she could rest easily in Robb's arms at night, knowing their children were safe in their beds, it was a willing sacrifice.

There were days where an itch arose - an inner voice pleading for her to continue on as a warrior, to save people from harm and leave a bloody trail in her midst. More than anything, hearing of Daenerys' eventual downturn scared her into quietening that voice once and for all. She knew all too well the lure of power and the desire to unleash one's inner fury, some had even speculated she herself would turn into a 'Mad Queen'. But Daenerys had perished choosing to protect innocent lives over chasing her lifelong dream, an ending she was worthy of while in the midst of her previously fair and just rule.

If Fianna had to live without her father, Tiernan, Daenerys and the countless Northern lives that fought tirelessly on her behalf - it was the least she could do to live for them, and ensure the story of their lives didn't fail to be passed on to the later generation.

"Eddie!" Robb shouted suddenly, startling his wife as she hadn't realised he was next to her. "Do be gentle, she's five minutes younger than you!"

"Well if it isn't the Lord of Winterfell," Fianna beamed in greeting, turning to her husband and breathing a sigh of content as he placed his hands on her waist, uncaring that all of the castle's inhabitants could see them both as she placed a kiss on his lips.

"It's certainly a welcome greeting to what you have previously called me," Robb chuckled, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.

"I disagree," she chuckled inwardly, slipping her hands to rest on his chest. "I called you the Young Wolf once or twice after some time between our sheets."

"Alright, alright," he laughed heartily, tipping his head back to feign exasperation at her words. "You'll have plenty of time to learn how to be a silent wife, now that we are at peace."

"And you'll have plenty of time to enjoy your head attached to your shoulders, before I remove it," she smirked sarcastically. As they relished in the comfort of one another for a few moments longer before their duties would recall them, Fianna's grin gradually began to fade until the thin line adorning her lips was something recognisable to Robb.

"What's wrong? What is it?" he demanded, cupping her cheek with one hand to drag her head upward to meet his eyes.

"It just..." she trailed off, casting a quick glance back at the bustling courtyard beneath them. "It feels as if something is ending."

"Something is ending," he agreed, catching her off-guard. "The war. And now that it's over, our lives are finally beginning. I'm not sure about you, but I can't wait until the only thing we fight for is which side of the bed we get to sleep on."

"Don't be preposterous," Fianna scoffed, "the right side is obviously yours, the door to our chambers gives an icy cold draft."

The moment fell silent again, the couple relishing in the tranquility of the snow falling and their children's childlike laughter sounding out.

"I hope we don't have twins again," the Northern Queen spoke suddenly, "I love them truly but they are a handful at the best of times. I'd like our next child to actually look like me, too. The Bua genetics are fading as much as Ser Davos' hairline."

For a moment, Robb took no heed to her comment, until an earlier conversation about the potential of Fianna's ability to bear another child flooded his mind. Leaning back in their embrace to look at her expression for any sign of excitement, his heart nearly fell through his chest once he saw that she was grinning from ear to ear, with eyes as bright as the Summer sky.

"Are you...?" he cut himself off, too fearful to ask and receive a negative response.

"I am," she nodded enthusiastically. "I wanted to be sure before I told you, but it's true. I'm not barren after all."

"Fianna-" he spoke breathlessly, wrapping his arms around her and swiftly lifting her from her feet. She had made him the happiest man in the North at that moment, standing in a spot he could always remember his father being. It felt as if Ned Stark was there at that moment too, alongside his mother, watching gleefully at the work they had did to restore their home.

Robb could see it - years from now, standing there once more with his youthful appearance beginning to fade as he watched out over the balcony at his children beneath. They would have a large family as he did, that much was sure. Although he imagined Fianna would take some coercion to agree to bearing at least five children.

His hand slid gently over her non-protruding belly, satisfied that this time he would actually be present for the full duration of her pregnancy to support his Queen throughout. It was true to say that the Young Wolf and the She Wolf had swapped Longswords for a life of chasing babes and paperwork, but it was a sheer reminder if anything that no matter what situation they found themselves in - Robb and Fianna Stark could work it out together. Perhaps Ned and Cillian had an inkling when they signed their names on the betrothal agreement about what their children would grow to become, maybe they would have married irregardless of Theon discovering the contract. Nevertheless, they had found a home in one another.

The 'Young Wolf' and the 'She Wolf', they had called them. But to many - they were now simply 'King and Queen', or 'Mother and Father'.

This seriously doesn't feel like the last chapter. It can't be. Like? I spent nearly two years on this book and it's over I'm completely in denial.

I'll do a proper author's note after the epilogue, which will be posted soon.

But just to clarify, is everyone still interested in reading the mini-sequel? I couldn't give much away before because i didn't want to spoil this book, but it will be set when Aifric and Eddie are 16. Fianna and Robb are very much alive and will feature in it alongside their other children ?, and Jon and the White Walker children will be a main focal point.

If anyone still wants to read it, do let me know!

Thank you so much for reading this far, I'm saving my emotions for the epilogue. I really hope everyone likes the ending I have given them. I know that it's technically a happy ending which isn't very GOT-like, but four main characters just died in the last few chapters so what can I do! Also, if anyone deserves a happy ending it's my babies Robb and Fianna x

sasori231 - thanks so much!

purple pygmy puff16 - I thought the same so I can't understand why people are hell bent on defending Cersei now? I hope you enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks for always being so supportive and kind!

FigurativelyDying - I'm glad someone is on the same page! Bran as King made no sense given the fact he said before he can't hold titles because he's not really a man, and Sansa deserves it the most out of any of them to be honest!

Crystal Wolf Guardain967 - I'm getting a bit emotional now! Thanks so much for consistently supporting me and always giving me your thoughts on each chapter, it really kept me going when I was ready to give the book up! x

SabrinaInWonderland001 - Honestly thank you for telling me you support the changes, I really did think that everyone hated it! And I can't believe you think it's one of the best GOT fics, that meant the absolute WORLD to me. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and the epilogue coming up! x

Guest - You're entitled to your own opinion about Daenerys' death in this book but to be honest I think it's one of the best ways she could have gone. There was never going to be a death scene worthy of a character like Daenerys, she's one of the best ever written. Her goal for the past 8 seasons has been to protect innocent civilians, and I enjoy the quiet irony in the fact an innocent civilian was the one to kill her. And as you said, every single one of them lead to Dany's demise - including Fianna and Jon. It also wouldn't have made sense if I wrote a scene with Drogon given that it was DAENERYS point of view, how am I supposed to write him reacting and doing all these things? From a dragon's view? It's a little bit open to interpretation how Drogon acted after she died. I do hope you like the final chapter, although I'm sure you'll find faults in that too ahaha. Have a nice day.