#Tormund Giantsbane Fanfiction

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Character: Brienne of Tarth

Sample Size: 9,606 stories

Source: AO3

[vampirepirates]

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist:

author's note + cast list

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

CHAPTER FOUR — BECOMING.

Have you ever gotten     everything you ever

wanted?           No, but I got very close         —            once.

Maesters flew in and out of the small room as another fit of wailing rang through the air. Jon, a boy no older than three now, had come down with the Pox. An illness that could take any man it wished, let alone a defenseless babe. Lyarra hadn't slept in weeks, knowing that any moment could be his last. She did not fear contracting the illness herself, only the thought of being away from him. Catelyn had not left his bedside either — a fact that Lyarra found surprising all things considered. She had despised the boy, and made it clear every time he had entered the room. Lyarra tried her best to not hold it against the woman, reasoning that if the roles were reversed, she would be the same — however untrue that felt. But at that moment, Catelyn wouldn't take her eyes off of the boy. If Lyarra looked close enough, she could almost see a flicker of guilt within them.

True to her word, Lyarra raised the boy as her own. He was a Stark in all but name. Ned had taken the boy as his son, having him taught among the other Stark children. During the days, Jon would train alongside Robb — the two, thick as thieves. Oftentimes they were joined by Theon, the remaining son of Balon Greyjoy — whom her brother had taken on as a ward. Yet, Theon did not seem to care much for Jon. Nor vice versa, however young they may be. A flicker of resentment coursed through Lyarra whenever she saw the two interact, yet she knew it was foolish to despise such a child. Theon felt just as much of an outsider as Jon was made to be, yet he was all but accepted wholly as one of their own. The Greyjoy boy, however, had no such luck. When Robb had other duties to attend to, Lyarra would spend her evenings training the two boys.

She'd become proficient with a blade, only further improving after the years of war. Benjen had taught her throughout the nights for years, and oftentimes they would not cease until the sun began to rise. Eddard had initially not been pleased with this arrangement, nor Catelyn for that matter, but Lyarra would listen to no such argument. After the death of her sister, Lyarra demanded that she not be married off like a prize — as Lyanna had been. Regardless of what it meant for the family name, she would not have her fate repeated. It had been an uphill battle to convince him, but after years of begging — he'd reluctantly agreed. Lyarra Stark was not to be wed to any man against her will, nor was she to live anywhere beyond the walls of Winterfell.

Benjen, however, had left their ancestral home within a year of Ned's return. The day that he told Lyarra he was swearing himself to the Night's Watch came as no surprise. She'd been expecting it, dreading it even, since the Tourney. The moment his eyes filled with light once he'd heard of the Watch, she knew it was only a matter of time. Lyarra was not losing Benjen properly, yet it felt to her as if she was. He would not return for some time, and never with haste. She did not make him promise to return home in due time, only that he would answer her ravens. In so little time, he had grown to love Jon as she had. The feeling seemed mutual, as Jon oftentimes would wake and instantly begin to search for the older man. She dreaded breaking the news to the boy. That one of the only men who accepted him as he was, intended on leaving — with no return in mind. Lyarra did not watch as he left, nor did anyone ask her to. She'd had quite enough of goodbyes, all things considered. Instead, she locked herself away in her chambers — reading some fable of nonsense to her boy.

Jon was not a difficult boy. His heart was too big for his own good. More than once, Lyarra had observed him giving up his own blade so that the younger children of Winterfell could have a turn to spar. Lyarra did her best to steer him in a proper direction, so that he would learn to love not only those around him — but himself as well. However, the boy seemed self-sacrificial even from a young age. He would do anything for his family, regardless of the fact that they likely would not do the same for him. His nights were spent in Lyarra's chambers, a fact that was decided the day he'd been brought to Winterfell. Within a days time, he had a small cot in the corner of the room facing her own. He'd only found his own separate quarters when Old Nan had been moved to a smaller room. Jon's absence made the room almost suffocating. The first night that he'd slept outside of her room, for the first time in years Lyarra found herself sneaking out of the castle.

The path to the clearing had become overgrown with years of neglect, yet the road itself was still engraved in her mind. Once the stump was within sight, Lyarra's gaze trained in on it, yet she hesitated when light came into her view. There in the center, stood a fire. A campfire, at that. Surrounding the flames sat four clear figures, with two resting at their side in heaps of furs. Wildings, she thought with a shiver. She'd never seen one, not with her own eyes. Benjen's ravens described them as beastly creatures, more animal than man. They raped, pillaged, and slaughtered as they saw fit. However, as Lyarra watched the figures dance about around the flames — singing gleefully in a tongue that she did not understand, she couldn't help but think they were just people, as she was. Her observation was cut short when a rough, calloused hand grasped the back of her furs. She was pulled into the light, then, and at once all raucous ceased. Instead, each and every head — even the ones who were previously asleep, turned to gaze at her in wonderment and distrust.

The hand who had drug her belonged to a boy who couldn't be more than eight years Jon's elder. His hair was bright as fire, with light-blonde wisps painted throughout the mane. His eyelashes were white, something that Lyarra was not quite certain she'd seen before. The most memorable thing about the boy, however, was how tall he stood. He was large for a boy his age, seeing as how he'd almost matched Lyarra in height. However, he carried himself as if he were a giant. Once she'd seen enough of him, her head whipped back to the surrounding crowd. No one had spoken, the forest eerily silent beyond the crackling of the flames. Lyarra's throat was dry, and she resisted the urge to cough with a heavy breath. All at once, the silence of the night was broken. Another man stepped forward. One with a thick, matted brown — maybe blonde, in some lights — braid, reaching down to his lower back. He had the marks of an older man, however his eyes still held youth to them. She did not doubt that he was her elder, yet not by much. He leaned then, narrowing his eyes as he moved into her space.

"Who are you?" His accent was rough, as if he were only trying the words out for the first time. She did not doubt that he was not entirely fluent in the Common Tongue, but he was more sure of himself than someone speaking an entirely foreign language would have been. His inquiry brought a grimace to Lyarra's lips, as she furrowed her brow at him.

"No one. Just a traveler passing through. I apologize for disturbing your night, my friends." Her voice was elevated higher than it should have been, betraying the fear lying in wait. Her hesitation only probed the man further, as he knelt in front of her face — taking her chin into his hand. They sat like that for a moment too long, the man scanning over her features while Lyarra did her best to not shiver at the intensity of his gaze. The boy with red hair was still holding her arms back, though he'd loosened his grip at the glance of the man in front of them.

"A traveler with the mark of a Southron house on her clothes," he poked at the wolf that had been sewn into her leathers. Originally, Eddard had protested when she decided she no longer wanted to dress as a lady of the court. Yet, as she had with most things, she did it anyway. He only allowed her to do so properly once she'd agreed to wearing her furs overtop them, alongside having their crest sewn into all that she wears. "'Stark' isn't it? The wolves?" Lyarra searched his tone for anything akin to mocking, but his eyes were imploring her to speak. He was curious, above all else. Once she'd realized that he'd been waiting for a proper answer, she tugged out of the boy's grasp to stand on her own.

"What does it matter?" Her question came before her tongue could catch it. Remembering herself, Lyarra's eyes widened but a fraction. This only further amused the man, as he stood to face her properly. He looked over her once again, this time taking in her full form.

"I'd like to know when a wolf enters my woods. A pretty one or no." His words caused a ripple of snickers to echo through the camp, though a snap of his head silenced them just as quickly. Her breath caught in her throat, choosing to look at those surrounding her rather than the man who'd been addressing her. His stance wasn't threatening, however, instead his arms were wide as if to welcome her. "I am Gogni, of the Free Folk. Gogni Frostbiter, to those among us."

Lyarra raised a brow as he continued. She wasn't surprised that the Free Folk despised such a title as 'Wildlings', though she'd never known one to outright claim it the way he had. He seemed proud, and for once she'd found herself envious of a stranger. Gogni, as he'd introduced himself, belonged with the Free Folk — he knew his station, claimed it with honor. Lyarra had never had the chance to do that. She often felt like an outsider in her own house, in her own body even. It was then, that she'd noticed the beat of silence stretching across the came. She'd been staring at him, observing him, for far longer than what was deemed appropriate. With a light cough, she turned her gaze back to the dirt.

"Lyarra Stark, if you must know." After a moment, she willed herself to step forward — glancing around at the clearing that she'd come to know as a second home. "What brings you here?" Her question was met with an impatient raise of Gogni's brow. He seemed unimpressed by her, and the thought almost had her retreat into herself consciously. Lyarra stood tall, raising her chin as if she weren't perturbed by his judgment.

"Are these your woods? Did you plant these trees? Were you here to watch them grow?" Gogni approached her, then, his gaze bordering on something predatorial. Lyarra could not will herself to meet his gaze, instead choosing to focus on the distant flames — the familiar crackle of the heat. "Answer me, Wolf. Are these woods yours? Have you claimed them as your own?" Before she had the chance to move, Gogni grabbed her chin — all but forcing her to face him. His eyes narrowed in on her, as her breath escaped her in one powerful sweep.

"They're not any more yours than they are mine." After but a moment came her biting reply. Gogni had almost seemed enthused by her reaction, leaning closer into her space. He was examining her then as he had before, searching for something within her that she was not entirely sure she had possessed.

"Very well, then, my Little Wolf. We'll share them." His words held a question within them, an expectance of her cooperation. She'd had no choice in the matter, if she chose to think properly, however she found herself dreading the thought of their absence as well. She felt watched, uncomfortably scanned over — and yet she did not feel wholly unsafe. For once, the gaze of a man did not make her shrink back, rather she felt empowered.

That night, she sat with the Free Folk by the warmth of their fire. They did not return to dancing and singing as they had before, but they were not hesitant to speak with her. The respect she had given them had seemed to go a long way within the group. They'd offered her food, meat from what appeared to be some large woodland beast — but she'd denied it with a light wave of her hand. The boy from earlier sat by her side, telling her every tale he could think of. He told her of the Giants he'd seen, of the beasts he'd taken on already. All things considered, Lyarra was half convinced the boy had enjoyed hearing himself talk more than anything. All the while, Gogni had not taken his eyes off of her. Lyarra did her best to not shrink under his gaze, yet the intensity of it made it difficult to pull her eyes away from.

Not long before the sun came up, the Red-haired boy had made his departure. She watched as he left, taking note of his thunderous steps. It was a wonder the rest of the camp had managed to sleep as soundly as they were, when he all but stomped around.

"Tormund." Came a voice from across the fire. As Lyarra dragged her attention back to it, she noticed Gogni staring back at her. "He likes you. Called you She-Wolf when you weren't listening. He's loud, and a bit of a fool. But he's not easy to gain the approval of." His words were hushed, and Lyarra found herself leaning closer to hear him properly. After a beat, he'd stood up for just a moment before properly placing himself at her side. Their knees were touching, and the heat swarming off of him was enough for her to lean into his side as unnoticeably as she could.

"He's.. an interesting boy." Came her eventual reply. Gogni picked his head up quickly as if he wasn't expecting her to answer. Again, he searched her eyes — looking desperately for something that Lyarra found herself wanting to help him find. He looked at her then, as if she had fascinated him. The thought brought heat to Lyarra's neck, and she did her best to avoid his stare.

"Will you come back?" He'd asked, once the sun had begun to properly rise. He helped her to her feet, his rough hands clasping onto her own with fervor. She'd held onto his hand for a beat too long, before retreating backwards. She'd need to make her trip home with haste, if she was to return before anyone noticed her absence. As she turned to make her way back, she found herself pausing just before the tree line.

"Will you be here?" Lyarra found herself questioning underneath her breath, turning back to face the man who had not moved an inch. He met her question with a grin, barring his teeth as if he were a beast himself. He did not attempt to move any closer to her, yet even from his distance Lyarra found herself suffocating.

"For you, my Little Wolf? I'll be here."

"Then, yes. I'll come back."

True to her word, every night once the moon began to shine over the stone of Winterfell, Lyarra would sneak back through the forest. Some nights Gogni would not talk to her much at all, instead tending to those in his party. Those nights, Tormund would not leave her side. As Gogni had told her, he'd taken to calling her 'She-Wolf'. A title that in her mind, made little sense, yet she did nothing to question the boy. If there was one thing about Tormund, it was that he was sure of himself — even when he knew he was wrong, he was confident. A strange boy, Lyarra couldn't help but think.

Other nights, Gogni stuck close to her. Similar to Tormund, he'd tell her of life beyond the Wall. What it looked like when the stars would dance, painting colors through the night sky. Against her better judgement, Lyarra found herself longing to return with them, to see the painted sky for herself.

The numbers within the group often changed. Yet each time she'd returned, Tormund and Gogni would both stand there solemnly, awaiting her arrival. As if they knew she'd be too unfamiliar without them there, they did not dare leave the camp. After a few weeks, Lyarra had managed to convince Gogni to teach her to fight as the Free Folk did. She knew how to swing a blade as a 'Southerner' — as they had named anyone beyond the Wall — did, but she wanted to know more. She found herself valuing the power that women held in the Free Folk, at that moment, as Gogni did not do much more than grunt at her request. She'd even gone on to ask him to teach her their language, so that she could properly speak to the group. Gogni had been more hesitant with this request, but he conceded all the same. Though their lessons were far less frequent, she learned to greet him with common phrases all the same.

Lyarra found herself becoming familiar with the group at an uncomfortably quickened speed. Each time they'd returned, their expressions became less distrusting — less guarded, and more expectant. Tormund had taken to barreling into her the moment she came into view. At first, this had caught her so off-guard that she fell to the ground with a heap of Ginger on top of her. That time, Gogni had done nothing to help her — only chuckling with great power as she struggled to get the boy off of her. By now, however, she knew to expect the barrel of weight, and quickly matched it with her own energy.

Despite her frequent visits, Gogni never took to referring to her by her true name. Instead, she remained his 'Little Wolf. — or sometimes Lya'. He'd greet her with the title just as he bid her goodbye with it. She'd be lying if she said the words hadn't begun to bring a consistent rise of heat through her body each time she heard it. She'd felt for a man before. Petyr was not only her first friend, but the first boy that she'd found herself truly caring for. However, while Petyr was soft and familiar — Gogni was rough, and new. He was something to be explored, something she had yet to properly understand. Oftentimes she felt as if these feelings were matched with equal fervor, yet she ignored the thought altogether. For once, she'd felt as if she'd had a place among someone — and Lyarra was not willing to throw that away for 'childish' adoration.

Once her presence had become frequent enough, she'd been introduced to another member of the group. A babe, with blonde eyelashes and blue eyes — reminiscent of the boy she'd come to know all too well. She was Tormund's kin, no doubt. While she was not 'kissed by fire' the way that he was, her complexion was a mirror-image of his own. She couldn't have been more than a year old, yet when Lyarra began to question the location of the babe's mother, Gogni had silenced her with one dark look. Once the crowd had begun to file away, leaving the child in Lyarra's arms, Gogni had pulled her aside to explain.

Tormund's parents were gone, he'd whispered. Taken by the 'Crows' — a title that Lyarra had come to learn was bestowed upon the men of the Night's Watch. Her own guilt churned within her stomach, as she thought of the possibilities of her own brother being involved. However, his last raven had informed her that he had yet to travel outside of Castle Black — yet the thought continued to cloud her mind. After a while, Tormund had come to collect his sister. For a while, he sat by her and Gogni — telling her stories about who the babe in his arms would grow to be. In turn, she told him of her boy — of Jon.

"You'd like him, I think. He has a bigger heart than anyone I've ever met. Than any of us combined, I'd say." She spoke of her boy wistfully, yet she knew he was safe within Winterfell. The more she spent with the Free Folk, the more she found herself wanting to stay with them. Jon would fit in, she'd think to herself. He would find his place — and the thought that he would finally have one brought a glimpse of hope into her life. Tormund matched her soft grin with one of his own, paired with a gentle nudge to return her from her thoughts. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, something that had struck Lyarra until his calm voice rang out.

"I'd like to meet him, then. If you'd let me." Once more, his tone was soft— something that she had not been entirely certain he was capable of. She'd agreed in that moment, but the more she thought of bringing Jon to the camp — the more reasons she had found against it. Jon was just a boy. He was not fit for travel, especially not for climbing over the castle walls. She found herself wandering down a dangerous train of thought, one that questioned even the loyalty of those around her. She'd learned to trust the Free Folk, even admire them as if they were her own — but Jon meant more to her than anything she had left. She wouldn't put the boy in any danger, regardless of whether she thought there was any to begin with.

"You think too loud, my Little Wolf. My own head hurts, even just by wondering what goes on in there." Gogni chose to make his appearance known, then, as he perched himself on a log beside Lyarra. Tormund had long since retreated into his own tent, taking his unnamed sister with him. He took a moment to look over her, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. Gogni placed his hand on top of hers then, spreading his warmth throughout her. He'd never flinched away from her cold complexion, and instead it almost seemed to draw him in further.

"I should be returning to Winterfell." Lyarra mumbled in greeting, all but avoiding his eyes. It was earlier than she'd left in the past, and she knew her words were hardly believable — and yet Gogni nodded all the same, standing as if to walk her to the tree-line. Just before they'd reached the edge of the camp, however, Gogni had steered her in a different direction. The sudden shift had Lyarra stumbling, leading to her harshly bumping into the side of the man. He'd only let out a slight grunt, however, and hadn't allowed it to deter him. By the time he stopped moving, they were standing in front of a fur tent. In her time within the camp, Lyarra had never been inside one of their tents. She'd had no reason to, after all. Gogni was still staring at her expectantly, before she begrudgingly threw one of the flaps open and marched inside.

Within a moment, he bounded past her to throw himself onto a pile of furs. In truth, she had become too used to his antics to startle, and instead she chose to place herself down lightly beside him. Noting the contrast, Gogni had let out a harsh chuckle, before he pulled the girl down beside him. After a moment, Lyarra collected herself enough to sit up properly, shooting a harsh glare at the man.

"You're too tense, Lya'. All you do is think." With that, he poked her forehead with his pointer finger. She'd flinched at the contact, but only after the fact. Gogni leaned further into her space, only stopping once the two were close enough for their breath to mingle. "Let yourself be free, my Little Wolf. You deserve it." Lyarra had only shook her head at that, pushing herself backwards with her elbows so that the two had more space.

"I'm here with you now, aren't I? I'm free." She'd muttered, after silence had stretched throughout the tent. Gogni titled his head as if he did not quite believe her, and he took another moment then to lean back himself.

"Only, you're not here, are you? You're somewhere else. You always are. You're never here with us. With me." For the first time, Lyarra heard true aggravation sneak into his tone. The thought caught in her throat, but she did her best to not allow her trepidation to become apparent. She did not fear the man before her, nor had she ever been given a reason to. Yet she found herself tensing all the same, turning then to avoid his glare. Again, Lyarra could hear nothing but her own breath — her chest heaving with tension.

"I don't like being away from Jon." She'd whispered finally, her voice carrying through the furs of the tent. Gogni met her gaze then, imploringly serious. To her knowledge, he'd had no children of his own. However, his stare carried a level of understanding within it. For the second time that evening, he covered her hand with his own — rubbing the tips of his fingers against the lines of her palm.

"Tormund is right, you know. You can bring him here. No one would dare come near the babe. I wouldn't let them." His tone carried a level of finality that Lyarra knew she could trust, and she found herself leaning into his warmth in the slightest. Part of her longed to give into the man, to allow his protection as well as his adoration. She turned to him then, taking in the intensity of his stare. As if sensing her thoughts, he moved closer into her space, repeating his movement from before. His intentions had never been more clear, as his eyes were all but trained on her lips. Yet, Lyarra leaned out of his path all the same.

"I would not ask that of you," Lyarra whispered, her gaze trained on the furs beneath them. Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers through them, allowing her mind to wander as she thought of what sort of beast it came from. It was only when Gogni grasped her chin in his palm, pulling her to face him — that she allowed her mind to go properly blank.

"You're not asking me, my Little Wolf. You never ask me for anything. I doubt you ever will. I am offering." The pad of Gogni's thumb raised then beyond her chin, swiping across her bottom lip in exploration. The touch made Lyarra shiver, a fact that seemed to delight the man before her.

"Why am I here?" Her question came out harsher than intended, but when alarm flashed through Gogni's eyes— as he moved to retreat, she only pushed further into his space, grasping onto his hand so that it would not move from her lip. "You allow me to walk with your people. To eat with you, to hear your stories. To hold your children. Why? What about me fascinates you so?"

Gogni paused then, not as if he hadn't been expecting the question — but almost as if he had been considering it himself. With another swipe of his thumb, his palm came to rest against her cheek. Lyarra found herself leaning into his touch, pressing into his warmth.

"I've never known a wolf to accept her cage as willingly as you have. You did not fight when we labeled you a 'kneeler'. You so eagerly named yourself 'Stark'. And yet, I see in your eyes what I see in the eyes of my people. You want to be free. You want to belong." His words were quiet, thoughtful. Emotion bled through them, as he rasped. "We can give you that. I can give you that, Lyarra Stark, if you let me."

Lyarra would go on to claim that she had a decent amount of self-restraint. Yet, in that moment, she only waited for Gogni to stop speaking — before she lunged to the man, pulling him against her lips with fervor she was not aware she was capable of. It felt as if fire was meeting water. Simultaneously warmth was flooding her body, while ice crept to meet it in equal power. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but Lyarra found herself chasing it all the same. She'd never kissed a man before, and as their lips properly met one another — she was grateful for that fact. Grateful that her first moment of passion was with him, and not a lord that she hadn't chose herself.

The two repeated the motion for what felt like hours. Lyarra only pulled away to catch her breath, leaning against his forehead with a heavy push. Unknowingly, she had found herself perched in his lap — a fact that only further brought pink to her cheeks. Gogni had let out a hearty chuckle when he'd noticed, moving to recapture her lips as his hands gripped her waist. However long they'd sat tangled in one another, he made no attempt to move further. Instead, he'd flipped their position, leaning into her space as she laid on her back against the furs. After a moment, he'd placed one final kiss against her lips, before he climbed over her — placing himself beside her.

A silence had stretched through the tent once again at that, however unlike the previous times it was not an awkward one. This silence was comfortable. Lyarra couldn't help but move further into Gogni's chest, placing one hand on him while her neck curled into the crevice of his arm. She wasn't sure how long the two laid by one another, only the sudden weight on her chest. As her eyes began to droop, she vaguely heard Gogni mutter beside her — promising to wake her before the sun rose.

With the birth of more true-born Starks, Lyarra found herself growing increasingly guilty every time she'd left Winterfell in the night. Robb did not often leave his side, but when he did he wouldn't return for what felt like hours. The Greyjoy boy often trailed after him as well, leaving Jon on his own. He had never claimed that he minded, instead choosing to spend his time with Lyarra as they would have normally. Yet, she saw the hurt lingering in his eyes nonetheless. He wanted to be a proper Stark. To be Ned Stark's true son. As he grew older, he'd only become further aware that this was a fruitless dream.

Each night before she left, she would spend but a minute watching Jon sleep — only leaving once she'd properly seen the consistent rise and fall of his chest. One night she'd returned just before the sun rose, as she normally would have, only to find Jon perched on her bed — staring at the door, as she crept in. His presence was enough for her to jump out of her own skin, before she calmed herself with a palm to her chest. He couldn't sleep, he'd told her. He had a nightmare, and when he'd come to look for her she wasn't there. Once she'd coaxed him back into resting for the remaining hours of the night, Lyarra found tightness creeping into her chest. She felt the tears before she'd noticed they were coming at all. Since that night, Lyarra did not allow herself to leave until she was certain that Jon was asleep.

The more she visited the camp without Jon, the worse she felt. Oftentimes she did not leave Gogni's tent, save for listening to Tormund's rambles by the fire. She spent her evenings encased against the man's chest, as he spun his own stories for her — detailing anything he could think of. Some nights she would cry in his arms, the guilt of leaving her boy behind overtaking her. Each time, he'd reason that she was welcome to bring him — and still she would ignore that fact, choosing to burrow further into his chest.

One evening, Gogni had seemingly had enough of the repetitiveness of their talks. He'd offered to walk Lyarra back to the walls of Winterfell, so that she could retrieve Jon and bring him back to camp. The moment that she let out a light laugh, she knew she had done something wrong. Gogni tensed, moving to push her off of his lap in an instant. Gogni took her amusement as mockery, and Lyarra could do nothing to argue against the point. His ideas were outlandish, possible only for a version of herself that was not as scared as she was for the fate of her boy. The two had fought throughout the night, yet Lyarra did her best to not allow her voice to raise above a whisper.

Once she had returned home just before dawn, Lyarra allowed herself a moment to think. She'd began to trust Gogni with her heart, why couldn't she trust him with that of Jon's? A man who had never appeared to be anything but caring — strong enough to protect them both. The rest of her day was spent fantasizing about what their life could be, if she grew the courage to flee with him. Their lives could mean something. They would have positions of importance among the Free Folk. They would be free. Eddard may never forgive her for being the cause of the loss of both of his sisters — but he'd be begrudgingly gladdened to see her finally happy, she reasoned.

That night, she took a moment longer than necessary watching Jon peacefully sleep. His nose was twitching, black curls ruffling as his breath came sharply through his nose. She'd bring him in the morning, she decided. Her night would be spent with Gogni, if not solely to get his approval — to fully rally herself for the decision ahead. The trip beyond the walls of the castle was familiar as always, but Lyarra felt herself holding her head high for the first time. By the time dawn had arrived, she would never have to sneak beyond these walls again. She would be allowed her freedom.

As she approached the tree-line, she couldn't help but notice the overwhelming heat bursting from within the forest. Her skin felt hot for the first time, goosebumps met with an unsettling mixture of warmth. However, the light was the first thing she properly noticed. Similar to the night that she had been introduced to the clan, she could recognize the rising flickering of flames in the distance. Instantly, Lyarra picked up her speed ten-fold. In but a moment, she had reached the opening within the trees. Each and every tent was in flames, with furs strewn about. There were corpses littering the dirt, corpses of Free Folk that she had come to know well.

As she scanned through the rubble in horror, her gaze trained on one familiar bloodied figure. Gogni. Before she could stop herself, Lyarra rushed to him, running her hands over him to search for the cause of his pain. Instead of being met with a pained expression, however, Gogni was all smiles. His teeth shined so bright that the blood dripping into his mouth was impossible not to notice.

"Ah, ha— My Little Wolf. A lucky sight, for a dying man." Gogni rasped, blood spitting from between his teeth as he bit the words out. Lyarra couldn't bring herself to do much of anything besides grasp onto him. Her words were stuck within her throat, bile rising as tears began to burn down her cheeks. "Come, Stark. It's alright. Don't weep for me." He raised his hand to her cheek, and similar to their first contact — Lyarra jumped into his touch. She held his palm against her face, pressing him closer.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Lyarra felt her focus slipping, her vision quickly becoming hazy with tears. For the first time in her life she had found true freedom-- true joy, and now it was being stripped from her. A selfish thought, as bodies littered through the camp— yet it was stuck in her mind anyway. She lifted his tunic then to visit his wounds, but halted her motions when Gogni moved his hand to place over hers. With a sharp nod, he interlocked their fingers and moved them back to her cheek.

"Crows. Came in the night. I was waiting for you, by the edge of the tree-line. Should've been here. But, after last night. I wasn't sure.." Gogni trailed off then, looking beyond her to gaze at the rising flames. She couldn't stay much longer. She knew that, as well as he did. Yet she made no movement to leave, instead curling against him. He let out a light grunt at her actions, but quickly placed his hand on the back of her head — petting her hair, as she couldn't help but wail in his arms. "Lyarra, you can't stay here. They'll be back, and they can't see a Stark with us."

"I can't just leave you," She argued, sitting up then only to glare at the dying man before her. She knew, then, just how much she still wanted to tell him. How little she'd been able to express, as it was. How was she meant to leave him to die alone? He would never have done that to her. He would have sat by her side, cradling her head as he did now. Tormund would've joined him as well, no doubt. A flash of horror flickered through her at the thought of the red-haired boy. "Tormund." Lyarra breathed, and in an instant she watched as familiar terror ran through Gogni. He was their leader,  the protector of their clan— and here he lied in a pile of his own blood, with no true idea of where his people were.

Before she could think better of it, Lyarra was on her feet. She tore through every fur she could find, even the ones littered with flames. She did not dare to stop, until she heard grunting in the distance — followed by the clashing of steel. In an instant, Lyarra chased after the sound. There, just beyond the trees stood Tormund, with a babe in one arm and a blade in the next. Lyarra rushed forward then, grabbing a forgotten blade on the ground before slashing towards the man Tormund had been fighting. After a moment, horror dawned on Lyarra — as she realized the true extent of what she had done. As the man fell to the ground, she recognized the black cloak coating his shoulders. He was a 'Crow', a man of the Night's Watch. One of her people, no doubt. However, as she turned her attention back to the boy with red hair, she couldn't feel guilt rise to her chest. Tormund wobbled on his feet, as Lyarra rushed to catch him.

"Thought you'd left us for good this time, She-Wolf. Didn't expect to see you back here." As far as she could see, there were no lasting wounds on Tormund. He had only a few cuts littering his cheeks, ones that would no doubt leave a scar — but weren't fatal by any means. Nonetheless, she held the boy's face in her hands. Before she could do much else, she was met with a harsh shove — and a thick bundle placed in her arms. There, sat Tormund's sister. Lyarra glanced up to the boy, who now stood tall with a blade secure in his two hands. "Take her. Take her back to your prissy lords, and your cunt of a king. She'll be a kneeler, but at least she'll be alive. And tell your boy, I'm sorry. I would've liked to meet him." With that, Tormund bounded off into the direction of more Crows. She wanted to call after him, clawing at her throat to force some sort of plea to come out. Yet, she could only watch as the remainder of the camp ran off with him.

As the flames continued to rise, Lyarra forced herself to scramble up— a difficult feat with the babe nestled in her arms. By the time she had returned to Gogni, the light had already faded from his eyes. She sank to her knees beside him, leaning to place one final kiss against his solid temple — a prayer in the Old tongue falling from her lips. Once she made her way out of the camp, exhaustion overtook her. Lyarra all but sunk to her knees, leaning to rest against the stone walls of Winterfell. At that moment, the infant in her harms began to rise— cooing to capture Lyarra's attention.

Her sharp blue eyes were the first thing that she noticed about her. Her hair was thin, wispy blonde streaks curling around her temple. She was Jon's opposite in everything but stature. Explaining the babe in her arms would be more difficult than fleeing with Jon in the night would have been, Lyarra thought to herself. She couldn't claim that she was hers, nor could she find a reason to argue for her presence in the first place. The only thing she could hope to do was beg Eddard for her right to stay. Lyarra would stop at nothing to heed Tormund's wishes, to protect the girl in her arms with her life.

All at once, she'd remembered that the infant still had no name. She scoured her memory for anything fitting, any Free Folk name that would suit her. After a moment, 'Reyne' came to mind. It wasn't a common name, nor was it something that stood out unnecessarily. Reyne babbled at that moment, grasping Lyarra's finger in her small palm.

It was ironic, in truth, that Lyarra's only two children weren't hers at all. And yet she would stop at nothing to ensure that the two had a safe life— that they would never struggle. She'd hesitated with her own chance for freedom, but Lyarra would give her life to give her children the right they deserved.

So. That was a lot. Two more of the main characters were introduced.. and then one of them instantly died. Please forgive me. If their relationship seems a bit rushed, it's because it is! Lyarra has never had a proper run-in with love before this moment. Petyr is something else, something way.. more complicated. And yes we have young Tormund! Something I need to preface is that this will have Jon/Tormund as a secondary ship. It won't be the focus, and if you truly despise the pairing you can ignore their sections. But it will be more relevant as the story progresses, especially through the later chapters. To this point, I feel the need to mention that the relationship between Lyarra & Gogni is meant to be a parallel to Tormund & Jon in a way. "My little Wolf, My little Crow, etc." They're very dear to me.

From now on, every chapter will most likely represent one episode. There will be episodes that she won't be present, but for the most part I will try to stick to the show. This fic will likely be a fix-it, so there will be parts that differ from the source material. I am very excited to officially start the proper show-focused part of it. I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and as always feel free to leave any kind of comment below.

Thank you,

Zevran.

[coldhomee]

a beast of a burden

Jon, it calls again, toying. If he had a heart still, it would beat in sharp fury. Snow? It asks. Stark? Neither anymore. Neither, it agrees. Suddenly, a sharp pain. Jon, the voice warns, welcome home.

Jon Snow, after death.

1/?, 1,910 words

Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow

Rating: Mature

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Resurrection, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Religion, Angst

hi, this is my first time writing for got. this fic will explore jon's resurrection and hopefully be my next large project for a while. please rb and comment if you enjoy 🌾

[sprintingfox]

New Story Out!

New fic is out! Nightmare (HotD) is available on Quotev, Wattpad, and Archive Of Our Own!

-

Past full-length ASOIAF fics (completed):

1. Breaker, Broken (Targaryen OC x Jorah Mormont)

2. Ursa Major (Umber OC x Tormund Giantsbane)

3. Northern Sun (Lannister OC x Robb Stark)

4. Zokla (Stark OC x Theon Greyjoy)

5. Fatebringer (Martell OC x Viserys Targaryen)

6. Undead (Vikings x GoT Crossover; Viking OC x Oberyn Martell x Daario Naharis)

7. Stormbringer (Storm OC x Jon Snow)

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Past ASOIAF one-shots (found in the Sprinting Fox: Unwritten book):

1. Targaryen OC x Aegon Targaryen II (HotD)

2. Targaryen OC x Otto Hightower (HotD —> NOW FULL-LENGTH FIC)

3. Lannister OC (DARK HotD AU) *easter egg of this found in my Robb Stark fic!*

4. Storm OC x Jon Snow (GoT, very brief, no interaction, only fic set-up —> NOW FULL-LENGTH FIC)

5. Targaryen OC x Jacaerys Velaryon (HotD)

6. Lothbrok OC x Daenerys Targaryen (GoT / Vikings —> NOW FULL-LENGTH FIC WITH DIFFERENT PLOT)

7. Hightower OC x Daemon Targaryen (HotD)

8. Targaryen OC x Yara Greyjoy (GoT)

-

Future ASOIAF fics:

1 & 2: HotD OCs (HotD S1 - onward) *no true love interest + may have darker themes*

3: TVDU OC in HotD fic

[satinoflowers]

Day 1 of Jon Snow fortnight: The Humble Champion ficlet

Beneath the shadow of the Wall, a laborer toils.

Of course, Jon isn’t usually a laborer. Usually around now he’d be walking the ramparts with his brothers in black, checking ballistas and defenses for cracks and restocking oil. But today Kegs had caught a vicious fever, and was quarantined in Hardin’s tower for fear of spreading his sickness amongst the crows. And Jon would be damned if a single builder couldn’t attend to his duties- there was much and more, always, to be done. 

“Lord Crow! What the hell are you doing?” Tormund stalks over from his seat, one fist full of dice and the other full of a tankard.

“I could ask you the same. Don’t you have some delegating to do?” Jon spares him a glance before bringing the hammer down, driving the rest of the nail into the log. He’s been working on a palisade for the past hour- a palisade that was due to be finished a day ago. 

“To hell with delegating, Jon. The name’s not Tormund Delegator-Slayer.” The wildling thinks for a moment. “HAR! Actually, it has a good ring t’it. I’ll add it to my list.” 

“...Right.” The lord commander wipes the sweat from his brow, which had begun to turn cold and hard.

Pounding a hammer for hours on end worked different muscles than sword fighting, and the strain in his shoulders reminded him of his tireless training as a recruit. The memory and feeling was as pleasant as a warm gust of wind… but he could only enjoy it for a moment before Tormund Talks-Too-Much interrupted.

“Come have a roll with us, lad. Take a break!” 

“Sorry, Tormund. These palisades were supposed to be done a day ago, and all the builders are delegated to other roles.” 

“You’re the Lord Commander. I’m sure you could find one gods-damned person to drive a fuckin’ nail.” Jon shakes his head and readies the next nail. 

Tormund sighs, and claps a giant hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“Lad. The singers won’t sing songs for no builders- they’ll sing for Lord Commanders, and warriors, though. And part of being a warrior is a bit o’ gambling.”

“Someone must do it. And I never much cared for song anyways.” Hopefully that’ll convince his friend to leave him alone. 

Tormund considers this, leaning against Jon’s unfinished palisade, causing the wall to tilt awkwardly to the side. Jon has to steady the icy wood with his bare hands, contracting a splinter in the process. Damnit. Wonder how many splinters Lord Commanders Mormont or Qorgyle had in their services. 

“That seems to be your philosophy for quite a few situations.” Tormund raises a bushy eyebrow. “Lord Crow.” He shifts off the palisade and mock bows, strutting back to his friends. 

Jon watches him go for only a moment before returning to work- someone has to do it, anyways.

The Lord Commander toils beneath the shadow of the Wall.

[katherinewinchester13]

I'd be a fearless leader

I'd be an alpha type

When everyone believes ya

What's that like?

I'm so sick of running as fast as I can

Wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man

And I'm so sick of them coming at me again

'Cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man

I'd be the man

I'd be the man

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

archiveofourown.org/series/1504532 🔒

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

★★★★★

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °° ∆ -------- ••• ------

In Progress ❌

7 Stories Complete 💯

Words:286,156

╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲

SHIPS 🩷

Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow

╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱

DESCRIPTION

The Winter's Queen

An AU where family still counts for something in Westeros, where a queen is crowned, and where the pack survives.

▅▄▃▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▂▃▄▅

[wildmtthyme]

I know, I know... but y'all don't understand just how many unfinished, unedited, unformatted fics and drabbles I have on my laptop.

.:WIP Preview:. Seventies AU SanSan written entirely from Sandor's POV

Tor chuckled and Robb glanced over his shoulder at them, shaking his head as they moved past boxes and piles of packing materials. They don’t listen to anyone but her half the time. He said it in a frustrated tone and they were following him and it was all normal, passing what looked like a room that was going to be a living room and into a room that was apparently the large dining room with the kitchen nearby.

They all jumped and Robb’s hands went into his hair as he yelled… Sandor just barked out a shocked sort of amused sound while Theon? Theon howled with laughter, falling against the wall and clapping loudly… Tor froze and Sam and Gilly just looked shocked as hell! Because they walked in… and there was a boy standing there wearing what looked like a football helmet… they heard him call out Robb, look! I found my helmet! Right before a girl who looked to be a little bit older than him fucking whacked him in the head with an aluminum bat, the ping echoed through the room and the boy went down only to pop back up and hold his arms up victoriously.

Sansa came rushing in and wrestled the bat away from the girl. No, no, no, no! No hitting your brother in the head with a bat, Arya Stark! – He’s fine! Look! We have to test the equipment, San-sah! – San, I’m fine, see?! It worked like it’s supposed to. He shook his head as Sansa tried to wrangle these two kids… she held the bat in one hand that was also holding a kitchen towel… and then using the other, grabbed each child one after the other by their upper arm and directed them out of the room. Go wash up for dinner!

She snapped at them before she shot an angry look at Robb and then at Theon, holding her hand up in question. Just stand there and watch, huh, Robb? Robb held his hand up. I just walked in the room! What was I supposed to do? Flash Gordon myself over there?! Chill out, San! His brow shot down and he felt the sudden urge to tell Robb to back the fuck off… it was clear to him that Sansa was stretched way too fucking thin at that moment. But the woman just took a deep breath and held the bat up towards him. Go. Put. This. Up.

[onefail-at-atime]

Ser Jaime broke Brienne's heart but Tormund put it back together by worshipping the ground she walks on every second of every day.

[justreblogginfics]

I LOVE THESE!✨✨✨

@fallatyourfeet writes each of these characters so wonderfully! I love the series “A Northern Light”, it’s so astonishing! The care and detail in each chapter is so awing and it’s really just a masterpiece; I love to reread it! (My little crush on Jon Snow was born because of these fics so my love for them is a little extra ☺️).

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Here is a list of my GoT work so far!  

Robb Stark:

No Words (Drabble/Short One-Shot x Reader)

Carrying Robb Stark’s baby would include (Headcanons)

Return To Winterfell (One Shot x Reader)

A Northern Light (Got x Reader Series) - Completed

Sandor Clegane:

An Urgent Confession (One-shot x Reader)

Everything (Drabble x Reader)

Carrying Sandor Clegane’s baby would include (Headcanons)

One Good Reason (Drabble/Oneshot x Reader)

Not Such A Lady (One shot x Reader)

Jaime Lannister:

A Real Love (Drabble x Reader)

Carrying Jaime Lannister’s baby would include (Headcanon)

The Tolling in the Tower - x Reader (2 Part Series) - Completed

Jon Snow:

A Northern Light (Got x Reader Series) - Completed

Unexpected - x Reader (2 Part Series) Completed

Gone (Drabble/Oneshot x Reader)

Carrying Jon Snow’s baby would include (Headcanons)

Trueborn x Baratheon Reader  (3 Part Series) - Completed

Tormund Giantsbane:

Southern Lady (Drabble x Reader)

Highborn Love (One-shot x Reader)

Carrying Tormund Giantsbane’s baby would include (Headcanon)

Searching (One-shot x Reader)

Perfect Lady (Drabble x Reader)

Gendry Waters

‘My Gendry’ (Oneshot x Reader)

Carrying Gendry Waters’ baby would include (Headcanon)

Tyrion Lannister

Change of Plans (Oneshot x Reader)

Northern Nights (Oneshot x Reader)

Restless Nights (Oneshot x Reader)

Tommen Baratheon

Always Have (Drabble x Reader)

Oberyn Martell

Distractions (One-shot x Reader)

Carrying Oberyn Martell’s baby would include (Headcanon)

Ramsay Bolton

Conflicted (2 part series x reader)

Podrick Payne

Carrying Podrick Payne’s baby would include (Headcanon)

Jorah Mormont

Carrying Jorah Mormont’s baby would include (Headcanons)

Yara Greyjoy

Having a baby and being with Yara Greyjoy would include (Headcanons)

Sansa Stark

Always and Forever (One Shot x Male/Female reader)

Edd Tollett/Dolorous Edd

Home To You (One-shot x Reader)

Ned/Eddard Stark

More Than Enough (One-shot x Reader)

No Burden (One-shot x reader)

Theon Greyjoy

Theon Greyjoy encountering you, a mermaid, would include: (headcanon)

[vampirepirates]

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist:

author's note + cast list

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

CHAPTER SIX - THE KINGSROAD.

the birds have left their trees, the light

bores into me. i can feel you lying there

all on your — own.

warning: animal death described towards the end of the chapter!

With a harsh 'bang', Lyarra woke in a rush. As her eyes peeled open, she came to realize that she wasn't nestled in her bed. Instead, she was surrounded by dogs. At her side, laid Tyrion Lannister — who seemed to be using one of the shaggier beasts as a pillow. The two had been drinking through the night, no doubt. She didn't quite remember why the two ended up in the kennels, but she could vaguely recall Tyrion making some sort of joke about 'Hounds'. Lyarra rubbed her eyes, bleary as she forced herself up. She only then took notice of the man in front of her. 

There, Sandor stood with a grimace bordering on a smirk. Lyarra could only imagine how she looked at that moment. Disheveled, grimy. Far from the appearance expected of a lady. He only waited another moment before extending his armored hand. She glanced over him before clutching onto it, allowing him to pull her up arduously. She quickly brushed herself off, moving to thank the man — before she noticed the Prince approaching in the distance. 

"Go on, I'll handle the little lord." Sandor grunted, nodding towards the door for her to make her escape. Lyarra sent him a gracious nod, before moving in the opposite direction of Joffrey. 

Since Eddard notified her of their coming departure, Lyarra hadn't had much of an opportunity to speak with the royal family. Joffrey, in particular, had evaded her — not that she was disappointed by that fact. Rather, she was grateful to avoid more Lannisters. Or, Baratheons, she supposed. The only Lannister she sought to speak with, beyond Tyrion, had been impossible to find, it seemed. At each opportunity, Jaime Lannister snuck away from her — as if he was frightened of being seen with her. She hadn't expected the two to be close, after all of these years, but seeing the man avoid her as he had struck Lyarra with a cold feeling. She'd had half the mind to mention it to Tyrion, before thinking better of it. 

As she exited her quarters, this time properly prepared — with her hair braided and held high, and white furs pulled tightly around herself — Lyarra made the familiar journey to Bran's room. She'd spent most of her nights there, since the boy had been injured. Reyne had been assigned as his caretaker for the time being, meaning Sansa was given a new handmaiden. As the door cracked open, Lyarra peaked through. There, sat Catelyn — who'd been sewing something that she didn't dare question. Reyne was by her side, brushing Bran's hair from his face with the back of her hand. 

"How is he?" She questioned softly, delicately trying to not disturb the peace within the room. Catelyn didn't acknowledge her, and only tilted her head as she considered the words. 

"They say that if he makes it through the night, he'll live." Her voice was raspy, straining with the lack of use. Lyarra nodded, settling herself in the seat beside Reyne. She reached to clasp Catelyn's free hand, squeezing it with all of the energy she could muster. Her sister-by-law sent her a grateful smile, moving as if she meant to speak — before the two were interrupted by the harsh creek of a door being opened. Cersei Lannister made her way inside, and Catelyn was on her feet within seconds. Lyarra herself hadn't moved, nor had Reyne — a fact that had the Queen shoot them an almost imperceptible glare. 

"Please," Cersei amended, nodding to Catelyn to take her seat. The woman in question only ruffled her clothing, hands grasping at anything she could find to make herself appear less disheveled. 

"I would have dressed, Your Grace." 

"This is your home. I'm your guest." 

"You must forgive us for the state of things, Your Grace. The last few days have been rather difficult." Lyarra remarked, brushing her fingers through the furs that covered Bran. 

Cersei didn't acknowledge that she'd spoke, and instead moved further towards the boy in bed. She began telling a story of her own, describing the death of her first son. The tale had Lyarra's heart pang with sympathy, something that she'd been surprised to feel for the Queen. As she continued to recount the story, Lyarra reached to grasp onto Reyne's hand, rubbing her thumb along her knuckles. Cersei extended prayers to Catelyn, before she turned to Lyarra. 

"Do you have children of your own?" The question held no malice, yet Lyarra observed as Cersei's gaze turned sharp. Tears were still brimming within the eyes of the Queen. Lyarra willed herself to take a breath, before turning to Reyne. 

"Not of my own blood, but yes." She admitted, continuing to rub the girl's hand. Reyne hadn't looked away from Bran once, but Lyarra noticed her startle at the question all the same. 

"I extend my prayers to you as well, then. No mother should be separated from their children, by death or distance alike." With that, Cersei exited the room — sucking the air out with her. The remaining women within the room were silent, processing her words. They were only disturbed when Maester Luwin entered the room, raising a brow at their solemn expressions. 

 

Though she'd been searching relentlessly for the boy, Jon seemed to be a step ahead of her everywhere she went. She'd gone to the blacksmith, and instead learned he'd been there just minutes prior. She'd gone to find Arya, just to be told that Jon had just left her side. She'd even peaked her head into Bran's room, only for Catelyn to tell her with a grimace that he'd only just left. 

When she finally caught him, he had been making his way through the courtyard with a sack of his belongings. Lyarra's own attempts to pack evaded her. Usually, she would have asked Reyne to do so — but since Bran had yet to wake, Reyne was charged with staying by his side in Winterfell. As such, she wouldn't be able to make the journey to King's Landing. Lyarra came to realize with a sinking feeling, that she'd be saying goodbye to both of her children on the same day. 

She watched as Robb and Jon made their way through the yard, sharing words between themselves. She chose to make her approach then, placing an hand on Robb — as he turned to acknowledge her presence. 

"Next time we see him, he'll be all in black." Robb laughed, shaking the boy with his free arm. Lyarra tried her hardest to force a smile to her lips, but she was sure she'd failed when the two boys winced. 

"It was always my color." Jon joked, his laugh coming out more forced than anything. The two boys brought one another close again, muttering words imperceptible to the common ear. As they pulled away, Robb gave her a significant look — stepping away then to chase after one of his siblings. Lyarra took a breath as she tightened her jaw. She'd be riding alongside Eddard to bid Jon farewell properly, once the road forked. But she'd realized now, that this could be her last chance to hold him close. 

Jon met her halfway, matching her fervor as he wrapped his arms around her. She buried herself in his neck, with a face full of fur. Lyarra wasn't certain how long the two sat like that, wrapped in one another. He'd pulled away after another moment, with an expression of steel — save for his quivering lip. She only stepped away once she noticed a blonde mop of hair approaching, her hands clasped timidly. Just as he had with Lyarra, Jon pulled Reyne to him. Lyarra couldn't help but join their embrace, kissing their foreheads in tandem. 

"You'll come back, won't you? We'll all see each other again?" Reyne questioned, her voice hardly higher than a whisper. Lyarra's heart plummeted at the inquiry, and she could hardly hold back the tears that threatened to break free. It was all so similar to the last time she'd seen Brandon. When he promised her he'd return, holding her close as he whispered things that would never come to pass. Lyarra did not want to make false promises, as he had. But as she saw the girl's composure threaten to break, she forced herself to nod — clasping onto Jon's furs as she spoke. 

"We'll all see one another again." Lyarra repeated, pressing another kiss to Reyne's temple as Jon pulled away. He mounted his horse then, peeling off with another look in Reyne's direction. The girl's sniffles were becoming more noticeable by the minute, though Lyarra did her best to not take note of them. 

"Take care of the boys, alright? Don't leave their side. They'll need you, as you'll need them." Reyne nodded repeatedly, as if she was no longer in true control of her actions. Lyarra ran her hands down the girl's arm in what she could only hope was a comforting motion. "You're a Stark, through and through. Never forget that, Reyne. You are my daughter. And I love you with all my heart." 

The remainder of her goodbyes were short, as most of the family was making the journey to King's Landing anyway. Robb had pulled her to him, similar to Jon, and placed his forehead against hers. Though the two had their differences, Lyarra did not doubt that she'd miss her nephew beyond measure. Theon, however, had been a far more emotional farewell. By the time she'd found him, she was no longer able to hold back her tears. He did his best to act as if he wasn't crying himself, only brushing her hair back as she continued to unload her tears into his fur — but she'd bristled as he'd hiccuped through his own cries more than once. Theon Greyjoy was the biggest nuisance she'd ever met. And she missed the boy already. 

Catelyn only placed her hand overtop Lyarra's, asking her to look over her children. Unlike the last time they had bid one another farewell, she made no promise of her return — nor that of Eddard's. She squeezed her hand within hers as she had before, and assured her that she would do her best. 

 

After so many years, it was unusual taking part in such a large traveling party. She rode close to Jon and Eddard, observing as Benjen and Tyrion rode further ahead than the rest. Benjen had approached her the night before with caution, fearing an outburst from her —

no doubt. She could no longer force herself to blame the man for Jon's wishes, however, and only sighed at his trepidation. She'd hugged her brother then, tighter than she had in years. He promised to look after Jon, to watch over him as he began his Watch. As much as Lyarra longed to ignore the feeling, she couldn't help but think that these goodbyes felt different than they had in the past. They felt more permanent, more sorrowful.

Tyrion, however, only suggested that the two drink through their sorrows. Thus, resulting in the two waking in the kennels. She'd miss the little Lannister, she came to realize. He'd been a comforting presence through the days of the King's visit. He had never once treated her any different because of her station — or because she was a woman, for that matter. 

As part of the group tore off, heading in another direction — Lyarra forced herself to steel her nerves. Tyrion turned to look at her then, giving her a long look — which, from her time with the man, could be interpreted as 'Well, fuck'. Benjen nodded in her direction, forcing a smile as he turned his horse back to face the road itself. 

"There's great honor serving in the Night's Watch. The Starks have manned the wall for thousands of years. And you are a Stark." Ned stated, and Lyarra couldn't help but nod in agreement. At his words, Jon turned to face her — an unreadable expression marring his face. "You may not have our name, but you have our blood." He gestured towards Lyarra then, and the action itself brought warmth through her. She knew that Jon was not her son, that he longed to be Eddard's true-born, and yet Ned's tone suggested that he was just as much her blood as his. 

Jon glanced at her then, eyes flickering between the two figures. He was thinking over his words, no doubt. Ned hesitated for only a moment, before riding off to join the remaining group. Lyarra steadied her horse, clasping onto his mane as she attempted to force words to come to her lips. 

"I've spent my entire life wondering who my mother is. Wondering, is she alive? Does she know about me? Where I am, where I'm going?" Jon paused, turning to Lyarra once more. She held her breath as the boy rambled on, forcing herself to not take his words to heart. "Does she care?" 

"Jon—" She started, but was cut off by a quick shake of the boy's head. The two only had so much time. She could still see Eddard's head peeking over the hills, but within a moment she'd have to quicken the speed of her horse to catch up with the rest.

"I've been so focused on a woman I didn't know, that I've ignored the mother in front of me." Anything she'd intended to say before was now muddled, leaving way for nothing but silence. "You are my mother. You always have been. Blood or no, that doesn't change." He stated, leaving no room for argument. Lyarra's breaths were shallow. She found herself longing to be beside him, then, to pull him close as she had before. The two were interrupted only by a shout from Eddard. They'd run out of time. Lyarra grasped the reins of her horse, pulling him ahead. 

"I will see you again, my son. I'm sure of it." With that Lyarra forced herself to ride on, tearing her eyes from the boy as they moved in separate directions. She'd caught up to Ned with ease, as he'd stalled to wait for her. 

"Did he ask about his mother?" Eddard questioned once they'd returned to the group. She paused only for a moment, before turning to him with finality set in her gaze. 

"Aye, he did."  

The party seldom stopped, usually only for the sake of Robert's bladder alone. Once, they'd took a break just before an open field. Arya had grown tired of her carriage, and through the journey had somehow ended up perched on Lyarra's horse. The moment they'd peeled off to rest, Arya had shot off of the beast and into the field. This resulted in a chase between the two, as Arya attempted to weave past the woman. They continued to run after one another for what felt like hours, only stopping when a familiar voice called after them. 

"The fuck' are you two doing?" Sandor rasped, stomping towards them as he made his way down the hill. Lyarra panted, brushing a rogue strand of hair from her face. Her cheeks were flushed, chest heaving with exhaustion. All the while, Arya continued running circles around the woman — carefully avoiding the man before them, though Lyarra paid that no mind. 

"What does it look like? Running after her. This little beast," She paused as Arya rounded on her, and took that as the moment to strike. Within an instant, the girl was wrapped around the side of her, held only by what little strength Lyarra had left. "is difficult to catch. She's too fast for the likes of me." She laughed as the girl flailed in her arms, conceding to place her back on the grass after a moment. 

Sandor shot her a curious look, unclasping one of his gauntlets. Before Lyarra could question him, the man lunged at her — picking her up with ease, slinging her on his shoulder. Lyarra let out an indignant squawk. She was facing his back, while her legs hung against his chest. She had half the mind to shout, before kicking her legs in aggravation. 

"Seems like you, on the other hand, aren't hard to catch at all." He placed her heavily back on the grass after another moment, a smug grin turning the corner of his lips. Lyarra groaned in a way unbecoming of herself, before she harshly dropped to the ground — laying her back against the grass. 

"Is that what it was like when you were younger?" She questioned, turning towards Arya — who had been watching the two with an unreadable expression. "Cause' that was no fair. Twice my height, and then some." Lyarra repeated the familiar words, a complaint that she'd heard from Arya not long ago. Sandor only snorted before retreating to where they'd last seen the prince. She watched as he made his retreat, something that Arya used to her advantage — as she took the opportunity to strike, climbing over the woman to elbow her in the ribs. 

Arya spent the next few days tormenting Lyarra. Every time she thought she'd get a moment of silence, the girl decided to pipe up — asking questions about anything they came across. Eventually, Lyarra had enough — handing the girl off to Septa Mordane before she could say anything else. Sansa, on the other hand, hadn't said much at all. Instead, she'd taken to staring longingly after the royal family as they rode ahead. 

By the time they had reached an Inn at the crossroads, Lyarra had decided she'd had enough of horses for a lifetime. She was beginning to regret bargaining to ride her own, so that she hadn't had to ride in the carriage with the rest. As she dismounted the creature, she observed from a distance as Sansa shared words with Sandor. 'The Hound', she'd heard the men call him. A beast. The title almost made her laugh, if not for the mocking way they'd declared it. She didn't know the man well, if at all. Yet even as a boy, he'd protected her from his brother. He carried her to her bed, when she was too drunk to walk. More than once, he'd spent his evenings with her and Tyrion in Winterfell. She couldn't find anything 'beastly' about that. 

As if he'd heard her thoughts, the man approached her then — head bowed low after his conversation with the Prince. 

"The little bird scares easy. She won't do very well in King's Landing, with that attitude." Sandor muttered, nodding towards the red-haired girl who now walked alongside the Prince. Lyarra only hummed, brushing the mane of her horse. 'Frost', Jon had named the beast — due to his white hue. Even his lashes were pale, a fact that only further reminded her of Reyne. 

"Can't say for certain that I'll fare any better." Lyarra admitted, turning to the man then — as he raised a brow. He'd gone to speak once more, before the two were cut off by a harsh shout. In an instant, the Kingsguard were up-in-arms, chasing after the sound. Sandor only shot her a look of defeat before he took off after them, Lyarra following suit. Sansa came running then, meeting the men before they could go any further. Joffrey was hurt, she'd supplied, though she hadn't said much else. Before Lyarra could follow them, Sansa grasped onto her arm — pulling her back. 

"It was Arya, Arya did it. Nymeria bit Joffrey," She'd whispered, her voice shaking with fear. Lyarra felt terror sink into her own heart, as the implications of what the girl was saying hit her fully. If Arya was behind an attack on the prince, she could be greatly punished for it. Lyarra moved then to look for the girl, before she was once again pulled back by Sansa. "Please, please don't let anyone get hurt. Joffrey didn't mean to hurt anyone." 

Lyarra attempted to soothe the girl as best she could, brushing her hair back softly — though the shaking in her own hands had become increasingly noticeable. "What happened out there? What did Joffrey do?" The moment the Prince's name had been mentioned, Lyarra ignored any blame directed towards her niece. In an instant, Sansa became rigid — hesitation coating her actions, as she all but refused to meet Lyarra's eye. She couldn't speak against the Prince, not when she was intending on becoming his future queen. When she came to realize properly that the girl wasn't going to speak, Lyarra called after Septa Mordane. Once she was certain Sansa would have someone watching over her, she ran in the opposite direction of the Kingsguard — searching desperately for her niece. 

She'd found her just before a full hour had passed, curled under the stump of a tree. Lyarra was at her side in a flash, her hands running over her in quick movements to check for any kind of wound. Once she was certain there were none to be found, she pulled the girl back to face her — all but crumpling as she noticed the look of sorrow on her face. 

"I had to send Nymeria away. They would have killed her for what she did to Joffrey. They would have killed her," Arya repeated, fisting Lyarra's tunic as she collapsed into her chest. She couldn't do much more than rub the girl's back as she cried, her heart only further shattering at each hiccup. 

"Arya, you must tell me what happened," She requested, once she had begun to settle in the slightest. She'd felt the girl tense in her arms, and Lyarra almost regretted asking as she felt another fit of tears build. Arya had only just gone to speak, when they were interrupted by the familiar clinking of metal. The Kingsguard had found them. Not only that, but when she found the courage to raise her head — she was met with the face of Jaime Lannister. His expression hadn't given much away, but his eyes held a level of regret within them. He extended his hand to her then, and Lyarra resigned herself to clutching it — still holding Arya to her chest as she rose. 

The men beside him had shot forward then, taking the girl from her arms as if she were a prisoner. Lyarra protested in anger, but was quickly silenced by Jaime's sharp glare. 

"She is to be brought before the King. Those are my orders. Nothing else." He parted his arms then as if to placate her, but as Lyarra observed a guard push Arya harshly forwards — all comfort evaded her. Jaime, seemingly noticing this, only resigned himself to nod and move ahead. 

"And what of her father? Should he not be present for this audience?" She demanded, stomping forward to move into his line of sight. Jaime all but deflated as she continued to argue, moving to push past her once again — before she stopped him with a harsh shove of her own. 

"She attacked the Prince, Lyarra. I don't know what you expect of me. The Queen asked me to find her, so I did. She asked me to bring her to the King, so I will. I am a Guard, and as such I follow orders." Jaime ranted in one quick breath. The group itself had walked ahead, though Lyarra could still see the top of Arya's head between the bodies of the guards. 

"The King's orders? Or your sister's?" Lyarra bit back, pausing only to watch the words sink into Jaime's head as she stomped ahead. 

By the time Eddard had made his way back to the inn, Arya had already been brought to stand before the King. Robert had made a point to not speak to her without her Father present, a right that only he had deemed important. The moment Arya caught sight of her father, he reached to grasp her face in the palm of his hands. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She chanted, voice crumpling as her resolve threatened to break. Arya always acted as if she were so much older than she was. She carried herself like a warrior. It was only at this moment that Lyarra allowed herself to notice how young the girl truly was. Within a moment she was beside her niece. As Eddard stepped forward to consult the King, Arya leaned into Lyarra's side. Jory stood close behind the two, a fact that only comforted Lyarra but a fraction. 

"What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?"

"How dare you speak to your king in that manner?" Cersei bit, scowling down at Ned. Lyarra had her own reply waiting, but as Jory placed a hand on her shoulder — shaking his head in the slightest, she allowed herself to take a breath. Robert rolled his eyes as his wife spoke, a fact that would have filled Lyarra with pity — had they not been in the situation they were.

"Quiet, woman." He grunted, and Lyarra observed as Cersei hadn't even batted an eye. She was used to his attitude, then. For a moment, she couldn't help but think that this could have been her sister. Lyanna could have been the one who'd been forced to suffer his wrath, tolerating his insults. "Sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. But we need to get this done quickly." Cersei stepped forward then, unperturbed as her husband prattled on. 

"Your girl and that butcher's boy attacked my son. That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off." The Queen stated, only meeting Ned's gaze. Lyarra paused then to glance down at Arya. She had yet to receive the truth of what had happened from anyone. Sansa had suggested Joffrey had something to do with it, but hadn't said much else. 

"That's not true! She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah." Arya spat, glancing up at her aunt — before soon realizing she should be directing her explanation to the King. Robert's eyes had widened a fraction, as he processed what she said. Cersei and the Prince, however, made no such movement. They convinced themself of what the truth was, and weren't going to let a little girl argue with them any longer. 

"Joff' told us what happened. You and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him." The Queen insisted, only then glancing down at Arya. Lyarra felt the girl tense in her arms, and reached to keep her at her side. 

"That's not what happened!"

"Yes, it is!"

The two children argued back and forth for another moment, as Lyarra came to a frightening realization. They would not come out of this confrontation unscathed. The Lannisters would not allow them to. Cersei called Sansa in at that moment, asking her to recount what had occurred. Sansa, just as she had before, avoided the question — her voice timid, as she only stared forward at the King. She claimed that she hadn't remembered, that she didn't know what had happened. That was all it took for Arya to retaliate, pulling on her sister's furs. 

"She's as wild as that animal of hers. I want her punished." 

As the group continued to argue, Robert spoke up once again. Eddard was to discipline Arya privately, while he tended to Joffrey on his own. Just as she had gone to make her retreat, pushing Arya in front of her — Cersei spoke up once more.

"And what of the direwolf? What of the beast that savaged your son?"

If they were lucky, Nymeria had fled into the night. The Lannister guard confirmed as much, telling the King that they caught no sign of the beast. Before Lyarra could allow herself a breath of relief, the Queen had another thought.

"We have another wolf." 

Within a beat, Lyarra's heart ran cold. Lady. The Lannisters intended to have Lady killed, due to Nymeria's defense of Arya. Sansa began to tremble once more, leaning heavily into her aunt's side. Before she could stop herself, she pulled the girl against her — doing her best to muffle her cries.

"He doesn't mean Lady, does he? No, no, not Lady! Lady didn't bite anyone! She's good!" Sansa cried into her furs, as Arya came to her defense — arguing that Lady shouldn't be punished. Cersei had made up her mind, however, requesting that Ilyn Payne tend to the wolf. Eddard spoke up then, halting the man's motions. He looked to Lyarra then, nodding to his daughters. 

"Jory, Lyarra. Take the girls to their rooms." He grumbled, resigned to do the deed himself. "If it must be done, then I'll do it myself." With that, he made his way out-- head bowed low. Jory moved to heed Ned's wishes, taking Arya in arm, before noticing that Lyarra hadn't budged. She pulled herself from Sansa then, kissing her forehead as she followed her brother — gesturing for Jory to watch over the girls. 

Eddard hadn't been difficult to catch up to, and Lyarra held no doubt that he was stalling to avoid what was to come. As she stepped towards him, his expression wasn't one of surprise — rather, defeat. 

"You don't need to see this. You should be with the girls. They need you right now, more than I do." Ned muttered, though his tone held no sense of expectancy. He knew she didn't intend to budge, and only moved further towards the kennels. As they trudged down the path, they took note of the man approaching them — horse at his side, something slung over the creature. Sandor hadn't done more than raise a brow upon sight of her, but he stalled in the slightest. Across the horse laid a body, one coated in blood — with thick slashes down its body. It could only belong to one person, Lyarra came to realize in horror.

"The butcher's boy, you rode him down?" Eddard's voice wavered, disgust evident in his glare. Sandor paused then, facing the two — though he only met Lyarra's gaze. She willed herself to feel something other than fear, but nothing came. She wasn't sure what she as afraid of, in that moment. However, she was oddly certain it wasn't Sandor. She'd seen a corpse before, but not that of a child's. But she knew of what it meant to honor duty. To know you must follow something, though you did not want to do it. Lyarra had heard of 'The Hound'. Of the Sandor Clegane that could slice a grown man in half with only the flick of his blade. She wasn't certain that she'd met him, until that very moment. 

"He ran. Not very fast." With that, Sandor shot another look her away — before pulling away with the horse in tow. Lyarra willed her feet to move, after that, doing her best to ignore the trembling within her figure. Eddard had glanced over at her, once he was certain the man was out of sight — but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. 

Once they'd reached the kennels, Lyarra could hardly hold back her gasp. There, Lady sat, bright as a first snow — with wide eyes, tail wagging once she took note of the two familiar faces. She had half the mind to release the beast, as Arya had. But she knew better. They hadn't found the last wolf. This time, they wouldn't settle without seeing its corpse. 

Lyarra crouched beside Lady, as Eddard approached her from behind. She could hardly hold back her tears, as she caressed the animal's fur. Lady came to lay beside her, looking up at her with love that could only be found in an animal. Ned made quick work of the blade, and with a whine — she was gone. She rose then, taking note of Eddard's solemn expression, before making her way back to the inn. 

Her feet carried her to the tavern, and she perched herself on a stool — throwing coin in the vague direction of a worker, before she could stop herself. Sleep would evade her, and if she returned to her room now — she'd find one of her nieces, inconsolable. The thought made her heart heavy, but she knew all too well that she was not sober enough for the night ahead. Before her drink came, a heavy lump took a seat beside her. There, Sandor sat, blood still coating his cheeks. Had Lyarra not been as exhausted as she was, the sight itself would have disgusted her. Instead, she raised her thumb to his cheek — determinedly ignoring his sharp flinch at her approach, as she wiped the blood from him. As he adjusted himself, leaning closer to her by only an inch, Lyarra couldn't help her own flinch. 

"You frightened of me now, Little Wolf?" The name forced painful memories through her head. Memories that she'd been doing her best to forget. Instead, she grimaced — her drink being placed beside her at that moment. She took a swig of the ale, cringing at its bitter flavor. 

"I've seen worse than the likes of you. Takes more than a little blood to scare me." Lyarra admitted, avoiding his gaze — though she could feel the heat of it. He only rasped out a noise that sounded vaguely like a chuckle. When she had glanced over at him, he'd been staring down at his gauntlets — furiously wiping what appeared to be another stain of blood. "In fact, I'd say I'm more frightened with myself now — than anything." As Sandor ripped his stare away from his armor, raising a brow at her words — she continued. 

"I cried when we put down Lady. As if she were my own flesh and blood. And yet, just before— when I saw the butcher's boy," Lyarra paused then, forcing a name to come to her lips, "Mycah. When I saw him, I froze. I didn't cry. I didn't feel much of anything, beyond fear." Sandor was silent for a moment, taking her words in with a swig of his own drink. Wine, she assumed. She'd only seen the man drink wine, in all this time. 

"Dogs are honest creatures," Wolves, she corrected in her head, though she made no move to speak. "'S why I like 'em. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you in the face." He paused then, his fingers outstretched as if he itched to remove his armor. "If it's anyone's fault, it's your idiot fucking' brother. Who the fuck' brings a wolf the size of three-men-combined to King's Landing? Let alone two."

Lyarra allowed herself to laugh, as she considered the man's words. Ned permitted the girls to bring their wolves, partially because he didn't want them to be alone — but also because he knew well enough they wouldn't be able to be cared for back home. If only she'd argued against it. In the back of her mind, she thought of what it would have been like for Jon. He would've fought to the death for Ghost, no doubt. He would've stepped in front of a blade himself, before he allowed it to be brought down on the wolf's head. The thought made her shudder, and Sandor sent her another curious glance before she drank down the remainder of her ale. 

She stood then, wobbling on her two feet — before bumping into the figure beside her. It was only after a moment that she'd realized Sandor had placed two hands on her, steadying her so that she wouldn't fall again. His expression held a vague hint of amusement within it, though he steeled himself — light fading just as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Seven hells, woman. You need me to fucking' carry you again?" He grumbled, moving to pick her up by her waist — but she quickly shot out a hand to stop him. Lyarra gestured only for him to help her to the door, and the two paused once the moon hit their faces. Just before they reached the rooms of the inn, Lyarra stopped — Sandor shooting an arm out in order to keep himself in place, after her sudden movement. 

"We won't be safe in King's Landing, will we?" She questioned quietly, her eyes turned to him — seeking something, though she was not certain what it was. Comfort? Reassurance? He only paused, moving to grasp onto her shoulder with familiarity she was not certain she deserved. 

"I'll keep you safe, Little Wolf." He promised, moving her forward then before she could say much else. She turned to thank him properly once they had reached her room, but by the time she had the chance — he was gone. Lyarra only frowned for a moment, before barging her way in. She regretted her loud entrance after only a second, as she noticed Sansa curled into her bed. The red-head shot up at the sound of the door opening, and Lyarra couldn't help but wince at her expression. The girl was exhausted, no doubt. She made her way to her quickly, laying beside her as she pulled Sansa to her chest. 

"She's going to hate me forever, isn't she?" The girl questioned, voice only slightly muffled by the fur. Lyarra paused as she considered the question. Arya was stubborn, and likely would march around for the next few days — even weeks, claiming that she despised her sister. That Sansa was evil, and she never wanted to see her again. She only brushed Sansa's hair back, curling her finger around the smaller locks near her ear. 

"She'll come to understand why you did what you did. When she's older." Lyarra felt the girl's tears start to build again, and with a comforting hush she held her tighter. Eventually, Sansa's breath started to even — sleep overtaking her. Lyarra did not dare move, and instead only pulled the furs tighter around the two of them. She did not know what the future had in store for them, let alone in King's Landing. She couldn't promise to keep the Stark girls safe. Not with lions breathing down their neck. All she could do was try to care for them the best she was able to. 

 

So. Then that happened. This has been one of my shorter chapters actually.. Weird. Not a lot happened in this. Besides... everything I guess. Never mind. Maybe so much happened that it feels like nothing happened?? Idk... Anyways. 

More Sandor & Lyarra scenes! Yay! I will warn you all now that this will be.. very much a slow-burn. More slow than burn. But they will have many more interactions from now on. Sandor is intrigued by Lyarra, especially since she didn't shy away from him after the whole .. 'Mycah' incident. 

In other news, Jaime is still being weird! Ig that happens when you sleep with your sister... Alright buddy. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, feel free to leave any comments you have!

Thank you, 

Zevran.

[damdamfino]

Chapter 6 of A Baleful Howl is now up!

JonxSansa Fanfiction

A Baleful Howl (32,055 words) by DamDamfino 

Chapters Posted: 6/32

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature 

Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark 

Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, Petyr Baelish

Additional Tags: Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Eventual Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Might as well have a 50ft fuse slow burn, Implied/Referenced Incest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Creator Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings / Graphic Depictions of Violence 

Summary: 

Jon and Sansa are all that’s left of the Winterfell from their childhood. After winning their home back from the Boltons, they now have to trust each other and work together to overcome their pasts…and their future.

Sansa can’t sleep alone and Jon no longer dreams. Winter is here, and all they have is each other.

[Picks up right after BotB. Post Season 6 Divergent.]

This was their lot in life; death, tragedy and pain. They were the only ones left. She had been through this. Had been forced to stare upon her father’s head, to hear the cheers at her brother’s and mother’s death, to walk the ghostly halls of her home. She knew this song. She couldn't let Jon succumb to it. ------ She was fragile and he did not know what she needed. He was broken, too - and two broken pieces don't always fit together. She needed better than him.

—

Direct Link to Chapter 6 : Enemies

This Chapter’s Song - [Black - Kari Kimmel] 

A/N: I’m baaaaaack. But I’m also avoiding logging into Tumblr right now to avoid spoiler comments on one of my side blogs. Sorry if I don’t respond to comments here - I’m not looking at my notifications!

I will be updating A Baleful Howl weekly for a few weeks, (either Friday afternoons or Saturday afternoons) so please keep an eye out for updates even if I don’t announce them here on Tumblr. 

[eviesaurusrex]

This will still happen. I just need more time.

Rewatching Game of Thrones and feeling the urge to write something for Tormund.

Well, okay, brain. Interesting and unexpected turn of events 👀

GIFs not mine but I love them, especially no 2 had a special place in my heart xD

[sprintingfox]

New fic is out! Zokla (Theon Grejoy x OC) is available on Quotev, Wattpad, and Archive Of Our Own!

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Past full-length ASOIAF fics (completed):

1. Breaker, Broken (Targaryen OC x Jorah Mormont)

2. Ursa Major (Umber OC x Tormund Giantsbane)

3. Northern Sun (Lannister OC x Robb Stark)

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Past ASOIAF one-shots (found in the Sprinting Fox: Unwritten book):

1. Targaryen OC x Aegon Targaryen II (HotD)

2. Targaryen OC x Otto Hightower (HotD)

3. Lannister OC (DARK HotD AU) *easter egg of this found in my Robb Stark fic!*

4. Storm OC x Jon Snow (GoT, very brief, no interaction, only fic set-up)

5. Targaryen OC x Jacaerys Velaryon (HotD)

6. Lothbrok OC x Daenerys Targaryen (GoT / Vikings)

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Future ASOIAF fics:

1. OC x Viserys Targaryen (GoT S1 - onward)

2. OC x Yara Greyjoy (GoT S1 - onward)

3. HotD OC (HotD S1 - onward) *no true love interest + may have darker themes*

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Potential One-Shots

OC x Cregan Stark

OC x Rhaenyra Targaryen

[rhaenyrastark]

ships i like from got and hotd

i am very much a multi-shipper when it comes to the universe GRRM has written, i do have to say however there is one ship that i really dislike and will NEVER read; Jonerys (Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen), i always stop reading when this ship is mentioned in fanfiction and i will unfollow blogs that ship it. i ship people that i think would be good or interesting together (or if i just like both characters and would find them cute together)

got (game of thrones)

Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Jon Snow/Ygritte

Samwell Tarly/Gilly

Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen (i know this one is a bit controversial but i found them so cute by the end)

Sansa Stark/Tyrion Lannister

Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen (more tv show than the books)

Margaery Tyrell/Sansa Stark

Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand (just make Ellaria her season 4 characterisation or book ver because she is so weird in the tv show after s4)

Oberyn Martell/Sansa Stark

Oberyn Martell/Sansa Stark/Ellaria Sand (in a triangle type polyamorous relationship, i dislike reading v-shaped relationships)

Bran Stark/Meera Reed

Rickon Stark/Shireen Baratheon

Gendry Waters/Arya Stark

Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark

Jon Snow/Arya Stark

Jon Snow/Robb Stark

Myranda/Ramsay Bolton (i love evil people with evil people that enable them to do more evil)

Trystane Martell/Myrcella Baratheon

Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth

Talisa Maegyr/Robb Stark (i love Talisa, i thought their love story was such a cute thing from the show)

Arya Stark/Tywin Lannister (give me grown up version of Arya with Tywin, especially if they make the harrenhal scenes canon, *chef's kiss*)

Arya Stark/Jaqen H'ghar

Missandei/Grey Worm

Missandei/Daenerys Targaryen

Jaime Lannister/Cersei Lannister (toxic but they died in each others arms, tv show only)

Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Mirri Maz Duur/Revenge (Mirri deserved her revenge even if it inconvenienced Dany a bit)

Catelyn Tully/Ned Stark

Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark (i can only get behind Rhaegar/Lyanna if Elia is there with them and they all survive, otherwise its just shipping 2 people that started a rebellion because they didn't tell anyone what they were doing or a guy who stole and raped a women. Elia basically deserved better)

Aegon VI Targaryen (Young Griff)/Sansa Stark

Aegon VI Targaryen (Young Griff)/Arya Stark

Robb Stark/Roslin Frey

Loras Tyrell/Renly Baratheon

Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth

Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy

hotd (house of the dragon)

DAEMON TARGARYEN/RHAENYRA TARGARYEN (i will ship this until the day i die)

Daemon Targaryen/Laena Velaryon

Daemon Targaryen/Laena Velaryon/Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Harwin Strong

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Daemon Targaryen/Harwin Strong

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Daemon Targaryen/Harwin Strong/Laena Velaryon

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon/Harwin Strong

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laenor Velaryon/Harwin Strong

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Daemon Targaryen/Laenor Velaryon

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon/Laenor Velaryon/Daemon Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon/Laenor Velaryon/Harwin Strong

Rhaenyra Targaryen/Daemon Targaryen/Laenor Velaryon/Laena Velaryon/Harwin Strong

Laenor Velaryon/Daemon Targaryen

Harwin Strong/Daemon Targaryen

Laenor Velaryon/Harwin Strong

BASICALLY IF YOU COULDN'T TELL FROM THE ABSOLUTE LIST ABOVE I SHIP THE 5 (Rhaenyra, Laena, Daemon, Laenor, Harwin) IN ANY COMBINATION POSSIBLE BUT I CAN'T THINK OF ANY MORE COMBINATIONS RIGHT NOW

Aegon II Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen/Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen

Baela Targaryen/Jacaerys Velaryon

Rhaena Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon

Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark/Baela Targaryen (again in a triangle not a v)

Baela Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon

Rhaena Targaryen/Jacaerys Velaryon

Aegon III Targaryen/Daenaera Velaryon

Aemond Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon (only in very specific circumstances; (1) when Aemond turns to team Black/doesn't fight for team Green, (2) when Rhaenyra is guaranteed to become Queen in the fic or (3) non-canon compliant e.g. no killing Lucerys, etc.)

Alicent Hightower/Criston Cole (they deserve each other, both sexually repressed and doing things for 'duty' sake)

Corlys Velaryon/Rhaenys Targaryen

Laenor Velaryon/Joffrey Lonmouth

Laenor Velaryon/Qarl Correy

[ao3feed-tywin]

Of Dragons and Wolves

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Ljd7FDv

by TFJWise49

My second Game of Thrones fanfiction, where Jon Snow is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark and his real name is Belisarys Targaryen. I chose the name Belisarys because I based it off of the Roman hero, Flavius Belisarius. Though Jon Snow is a Targaryen in this, I make no apologies for how I portray Rhaegar, for I dislike him for abandoning his wife and two children during the Rebellion whilst leaving three elite Kingsguard knights to guard Lyanna, and not leave her a Maester to care for her. This starts off with the North going to war when the Night's Watch call for help, just as Mance Rayder is coming to the Wall with his army and has warbands raiding Brandon's Gift.

Words: 197065, Chapters: 34/34, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Samwell Tarly, Margaery Tyrell, Barristan Selmy, Tyrion Lannister, Simon Reyne (Original Male Character), Jeonla Han (Original Female Character), Thalia Hightower (Original Female Character), Randyll Tarly, Ned Stark, Patrek Mallister, Mira Forrester, Brienne of Tarth, Jon "The Smalljon" Umber, Bronn (A Song of Ice and Fire), Daenerys Targaryen, Desmera Redwyne, Catelyn Tully Stark, Brynden "Blackfish" Tully, Edmure Tully, Harrold Hardyng, Yohn Royce, Sigorn of Thenn (A Song of Ice and Fire), Tormund Giantsbane, Mance Rayder, Ygritte, Theon Greyjoy, Dickon Tarly, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Shireen Baratheon, Mace Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Olenna Tyrell, Oberyn Martell, Maester Aemon Targaryen, Rickard Karstark, Roose Bolton, Domeric Bolton, Harrion Karstark, Eddard Karstark, Torrhen Karstark, Yuzaia Han (Original Male Character), Anders Yronwood, Alester Florent, Howland Reed, Euron Greyjoy, Jojen Reed, Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Cersei Lannister, Petyr Baelish, Varys (A Song of Ice and Fire), Gendry Waters, Willam Dustin, Matthos Seaworth

Relationships: Jon Snow/Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Bronn/Shae (A Song of Ice and Fire), Jon "The Smalljon" Umber/Alysane Mormont, Simon Reyne (Original Male Character)/Jeonla Han (Original Female Character), Robb Stark/Thalia Hightower (Original Female Character), Harrold Hardyng/Myranda Royce, Desmera Redwyne/Samwell Tarly

Additional Tags: R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Rhaegar Targaryen Bashing, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Willam Dustin Lives, Domeric Bolton Lives, Dead Ramsay Bolton, Yi Ti (A Song of Ice and Fire)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Ljd7FDv

[katherinewinchester13]

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh!

You need to calm down

(You need to calm down)

You're being too loud

(You're being too loud)

And I'm just like

"Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh!

You need to just stop

(Can you stop?)

Like, can you just not step on our gowns

You need to calm down"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.✭・.✫・゜・。.

★★★★✩

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Complete 💯

MATURE

Words: 2,973

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Ships 🩷

Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

DESCRIPTION

Jon and Tormund get drunk at the feast celebrating winning the Battle of Winterfell.

Tormund is an unexpectedly emotional drunk. Jon however...

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Personal Opinion

So freaking funny