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vampirepirates · 2 months ago

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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.

#got x reader #sandor clegane #the hound x reader #sandor clegane x reader #the hound #jon snow #lyanna stark #petyr baelish #petyr baelish x reader #tormund giantsbane #sansa stark #eddard stark #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #oc: lyarra stark

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rise-my-angel · 11 months ago

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You know how the Northerners fully understood Sansa was a hostage in Kings Landing and didn't want to be there, but she had to play along and pretend everything was fine and so does everyone else in the city? Like everyone close near her just ignores that shes a prisoner because they are forcing her to play along?

That's what I think of every time of you chuckle fucks say Lyanna willingly ran away or Lyanna went with or to Rhaegar willingly.

Y'all just pushing the "Kings Landing Sansa loves Joffery" propaganda that the series explicitly goes into detail to prove is a false narrative, but onto Lyanna.

Because she's dead and can't tell you that you're a fucking idiot for thinking she'd ever run away from her brothers.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #lyanna stark #sansa stark #anti rhaegar targaryen #anti rhaegar #anti rhaegar x lyanna #anti targ stans

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agentrouka-blog · 7 months ago

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I can’t believe we are still having pro Rhaegar discourse. My headcanon is he pursued her. It wasn’t physically forced immediately but he seduced/groomed her. He promised her he could get his marriage annulled and if she resisted, it didn’t last long. The power imbalance was too great.

For example, Anne Boleyn could not say no to Henry. Neither did Catherine Howard or even Catherine Parr. No one ever said no to him. If you were “chosen” you went without complaining. Anne Boleyn wasn’t in love with him but she knew she couldn’t escape the most powerful man in the land, so she tried exercising as little agency as she had and forced/persuaded Henry to marry her. She was brave and resourceful, and she still lost her life.

Lyanna was in a far worse position than Anne. She was isolated from her family in the midst of a war, she was also only 15, and unprotected. All that “Lyanna was a badass with a sword” discourse is woefully inaccurate, and it’s the reason Jon’s been prepared by the narrative to understand a princess in a tower predicament.

I mean, we can all make different guesses as to what happened but the idea that the author is asking a modern audience to consider the scenario he has created romantic is pretty laughable from any angle.

I'm personally more convinced that seduction is firmly out of the picture there, mainly because of how strongly Lyanna felt about Robert's bastard child and because of how strongly she felt about the concept of honor (while saving Howland, and as the Knight of the Laughing Tree) and that's very incompatible with the idea that she could at all be open to a relationship with married father Rhaegar, and unlike the various situations with Henry VIII, which were all happening more or less out in the open and with the arguable consent of the women's family's, any scenario with Lyanna is shrouded in secrecy mainly because she was both the daughter of and already officially betrothed to some of the most powerful nobles in all the land, who did have the power to say no on her behalf.

Where I can find common ground is the princess in the tower, and the degrees to which violence may or may not have played a role. Sansa is being groomed but decidedly not being seduced by Petyr, she doesn't want him and is accepting his attentions under duress (he is a powerful murderer holding her safety in his hands) and while she can slip into denial about her abysmal situation for moments at a time, she does not truly trust him ever. A similar scenario could easily have played out with Lyanna, kidnapping being obfuscated with a lie of protection from Aerys, with seduction never entering the picture. We know Sansa will escape her situation, but we can imagine a scenario where she doesn't.

If Petyr was less obessed with acting out a Catelyn-Happy-Ending-AU and instead with fathering a prophecy child, there's plenty of ways he could force the issue, from drugs to threatening manipulation to outright violence. There's a range of possible scenarios of what happened with Lyanna, but seduction and romance are... really low on the list of probabilities.

#lyanna stark #anti rhaegar targaryen #anti rhaegar x lyanna #historical references #sansa stark #littlefinger #parallels

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countrymusiclover · 4 months ago

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41 - No Longer A Bastard

Part 42

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

“No! Father, please don't do this.” I screamed thrashing underneath his strong arms when he had me smashed up against the stone wall smelling of flames meaning he must have executed another Hand who he believed was against him.

My father Aerys II had his hands on either side of my head trapping me in between the wall and his body before he began tearing parts of my dress. “You’re mother can’t be trusted anymore. And I need another heir that you will give to me.”

“But I’m your daughter.” I gulped trying to push him away with my hands against the front of his chest when he began shifting his clothing downward until he was yanked backwards by smaller hands.

“Get your hands off of her, Aerys!”

I gasped seeing my mother holding him back away from me as best as she could since he was a lot stronger than she was. “Mother!”

“Jaime, get her out of here now.” She didn’t speak to me and rather called to the golden knight that had come running down the hall with her. He had been escorting her to a new room when he was paranoid that she’d hurt me so we were on the opposite sides of our own home.

Jaime moved around where she stood gently taking a hold of my forearm, beginning to lead me away from them till I attempted to get away from him. “Mother! Wait, let go of me. Urgh! We can’t just leave her - Jaime, help her.”

“Vaella, I can’t. She commanded that I look after you. I - I can’t use my sword against my sworn King.” Jaime tightened his grip, spinning me back so his hands were holding me by my shoulders.

I heard my father shout at her before she whimpered, getting dragged into the available chamber room. “Aerys!”

“But he’s - he’s going to hurt her. You’ve seen the bruising.” I felt tears falling down my face, hating to see my mother be treated by here husband that way and it made it even worse that he was also her brother who was treating her so harshly.

Jaime touched the side of my face and I leaned into his palm. “I’m so sorry, princess. But it’s her way of protecting you.” He noticed that the tears got heavier so he wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me against his embrace.

“If I ever have kids I’ll never force them to marry their own siblings. It leads to too much cruelty.” Burying my face into his armored chest holding onto him as closely as possible just heavy sobbing.

Standing on the edge of the snowy mountain near Winterfell with my horse standing off to the side while I heard the sound of the dragons flying towards our direction. My sister looked down at me while she dove down and landed her dragon a few steps away from me. She slowly slides down one of her dragon's wings walking over to me. “You coming up here to fly one of my dragons, sister?”

“Not exactly. I’m good with just having one dragon to ride for my entire life. But I do have something to talk with you about though.” I shake my head no with the wind blowing my white cloak around behind me.

Daenerys clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “What do you want to talk about, Vaella?”

“Now that we both know about who Jon Snow really is I was thinking he shouldn’t have to have a bastard title anymore. He deserves to be part of our Targaryen family and show the world that the three of us are nothing like our father Aerys II Targaryen was. Regardless of us coming from the bloodline of who we all called The Mad King.”

She smiled, completely agreeing with my idea. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, sister.”

“I’ll tell Tyrion and Missandi to gather everyone. Sansa as well. Then we also need to discuss the plan to remove Cersei from the throne.” I reminded her even though I knew she hadn’t forgotten about the original goal that had brought us together now that they army of the dead was gone forever.

Once all the lords loyal to me, Jon, Sansa and my sister Daenerys began gathering into the main throne room with me standing beside my sister in the center of the room at the front of the crowd. Jaime was standing off to the side with our four children huddled behind him seeing Jon move up to us. “Your graces, what is going on here?”

“We have thought about it and we think it’s time you let the world know who you really are. You are of our blood, the blood of the dragon.” Daenerys declared, causing everyone in the room who didn’t already know to gasp in utter shock.

Lord Glover shifting his gaze directly at me. “He’s Ned Stark’s bastard, not a Targaryen one.”

“His real father was our brother Rhaegar Targaryen and his mother was the late Lyanna Stark. The Dragon Prince and the North She-Wolf were his parents. And I know what you all are thinking about the rumors of Rhaegar kidnapping her except that wasn’t the truth. He truly loved her and our brother would have given up his crown for her.” I slowly walked to the center of the room removing my sword and aiming it at Jon Snow but everyone could see in my eyes that I had no desire to hurt him. “You named him the King in the North because you believed in him. He united us all to face the White Walkers and Night King so this shouldn’t change how you view him now. He is still the man you have sworn your sword to!”

Daenerys clasped her hands together eyeing me for a second. “My sister knows quite a lot more about your values since she received a formal education of the noble houses. But she speaks about what is the right path for us as the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. So Jon Snow will you kneel before your Queen and let me make you a true born lord?”

“I am truly honored your graces, but I don’t want to be a Targaryen.” Jon looked between me and my younger sister.

Daenerys raised a brow not offended but curious. “I take no offense to your words. But can you inform me why you don’t wish to be named a Targaryen?”

“I wasn’t raised as one. I was raised as a Stark. The northern ways of life are all I’ve known and for that I wish to have the Stark name.” Jon responded resting one hand on the handle of his sword.

“Then kneel before me, Jon. Provide me with your sword if you please.” I slid my sword back into my holder holding out my hand for him. He placed his blade into mine, lowering himself down on a knee directly in front of me. Slowly moving his sword over one shoulder then the other before I declared his name change to everyone. “All hail his lordship Jon of House Stark, first of his name, Warden of the North and claimed King in the North. Rise, lord Stark.”

“All hail Jon of House Stark!” Daenerys declared, causing everyone in the room to join in behind her.

“All hail Jon of House Stark!”

Jon rose up from the stone floor bowing his head at me placing his sword back onto his hip. “Vaella, you trusted me with this great dagger. But it doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms who brought dragons back to our lands…it belongs to you Dany.” He brushed past me till he was standing before her, holding Aegon the Conqueror's dagger out for her to take.

“The prophecy has been passed down from King to heir for so long and none of them have figured out who it rightfully belonged to, who would figure out the Conqueror's dream of the great winter that would destroy the world of men.” Taking my sister’s hands in mine she gave me a confused look.

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Vaella.”

“You are the one the dagger belongs to. You were a Targaryen who walked into a fire with three stones and walked out unharmed with three baby dragons. You have fought the greatest enemy of ice , the Night King and brought them against the greatest power of fire, your dragons. A song of Ice and Fire, it is not the Prince that was Promised. Yet the Princess that was Promised and it is you Daenerys Targaryen.”

Daenerys takes the dagger from Jon’s hand turning it over and back in her hand simply staring at it for a few minutes. She locked her gaze with mine intensely holding my hand in her other one. “I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms and I will, but not alone. You shall forever be known as the Queen who found the houses of Old Valyria and for that we shall rule side by side.”

Looking over my shoulder at my husband he sent me a proud grin crossing the room. Removing my hand from my sister’s he revealed the gray crown from behind his back. “What is a Queen without a crown? My Queen, Vaella.” He gently sat the crown on my head with a grin still plastered across his face.

“We fight for our Queens!” Jon drew out his sword, raising it up in the air.

Daenerys raised the dagger up in the air. “We will remove Cersei Lannister and break the wheel of power that comes with her!”

“We will take the Iron Throne without bloodshed!” I drew my sword away from my hip and up into the air seeing everyone else who had a blade followed our actions and declared the words Queens of the Seven Kingdoms.

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blue-rose-of-wolves · 1 year ago

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@asoiastarks @asoiafwomensource @lyanna-arya-sansa-stark-blog @houseofjaqen @lyannatheshewolf @lyannastarkweek-blog @lina1745-blog @anotherlyannastark @winterrose13 @ironunderneathbeauty-blog @thelyannastark @stark-lyanna-blog @lycnnc-blog @winterfellrose @lyanna-starks @ladylystark-blog @blue-rose-of-winterfell-blog @lyanna-arya-sansa-stark-blog @lyan-na-stark

#lyanna stark #sansa stark #arya stark #lyanna stark week #lyanna x sansa x arya #sansa x arya #lyanna x sansa #lyanna x arya #house stark #house of stark #winter is coming #winterfell #stark women #asoiaf fan art #asoiaf coloring book #sanda x arya #blue rose of wolves #winter roses

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melxhunter · 1 year ago

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A WARRIOR’S VOYAGE

"With the sins of the sun and the sadness in the sky, you shall wonder why the universe never loved you back."

— In a world overrun by the corrupt and mad, driven by lust, greed, egoism, desire and obsessionalism, having a sweet and innocent nature always ends with death. Being honorable and having a strong moral compass is viewed as something ethereal one can only dream of.

That being said, her chances were slim. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.

It was winning or dying.

And Fiyona Mormont was not ready to die.

SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE…

HOUSE MORMONT of Bear Island is a vassal House which holds fealty to House Stark of Winterfell, to the Warden of the North. They had always been a small House – it was no secret. But somehow, that alone just made them even prouder.

It didn't matter how many overlooked the island's inhabitants and failed to see the whole picture. For even if most didn't fully realize it, House Mormont was fearsome enemies but also excellent allies. Even if they indeed are a very small house.

Their ancestral home of Bear Island is an island far to the northwest of Winterfell, its location and densely forested areas with a large bear population the main reasons to why it's the home to mostly woodsmen, crofters and fisherfolk. Despite that, Bear Island was one of the places within the Seven Kingdoms known for their skilled warriors. Known for how impeccable they were at sword fighting.

Not only that, but Bear Island was also one of the few subcultures within Westeros with an tradition of female fighters. You see, over the age of time, there had always been dangers of imminent attack from ironborn raiding ships while the men were out at sea which eventually led to the women of Bear Island being expected to defend their homes from attacks. Sometimes it even was attacks from wildings who avoided the wall completely by using boats to cross the bay from the Frozen Shore.

Thus people who hail from Bear Island are mostly strong, hardy, loyal and deep down compassionate and kindhearted. When they know what needs to be done, they don't hesitate to take action.

Fiyona Mormont was no exception. The young she-bear was taught to be a warrior from an early age, and she had always known the true horrors of the world, known about the monsters hiding in the shadows since the early stages of her youth.

Fiyona was no stranger to death either, for she had watched the life leave disappear from the animals which she hunted, even watched the life slip away from her father's eyes. It was horrible, but she knew it was a part of the harsh world she lived in.

Nothing could ever change it. It was the way it was, the way it always had been and always would remain.

What Fiyona was a stranger to, however, was love. Not the kind of love you receive from your mother, a sibling or a dear friend. No, Fiyona was a stranger to the kind of ethereal love which exists between two souls. Between two hearts which ignites in such a heated flame whenever they're near one another.

Not even in her life as Mia Nordin had she ever experienced it... not that she remembered that life...yet.

As the Seven Kingdoms seemed to hold its breath while preparing itself for yet another war, completely amid the world where greed and power reign supreme, Fiyona's life collides with a another's...under arranged circumstances.

Thus began the story of Fiyona Mormont and Robb Stark. Two young humans who would change the course of the game itself.

The future Warden of the North and the former heiress of Bear Island.

The Young Wolf and the She-Wolf.

The King and Queen in the North.

As brave as the dusk & as fierce as the storm.

Fiyona Mormont's tale is filled with broken pieces, terrible choices, betrayals and ugly truths. In spite of those parts indeed being heavy and literally true, they are nevertheless misleading. For the tale is also filled with happiness, heroism, love, humanity, kindness and peace in her soul.

It's an entangled tale in which a black bear is forced to run with the wolves only discover she was one of them all along.

A tale of the wild wolves and the black bear.

Interested to read more? Then check out the story A Warrior’s Voyage on my wattpad profile melxhunter!!

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mikasaerens · 2 years ago

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#asoiaf #jon snow #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #jonerys #sansan #arya stark #gendrya #jonrya #jonsa #got #Jaime Lannister #braime #ned x catelyn #rhaegar x lyanna #mine #asoiaf poll #game of thrones #I tried including the most popular ones? sorry if I forgot something

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crimsoncold · 5 months ago

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Polls, Plans for a Future ASOIAF art series, and some Criticism of Antis and thoughts General Fandom etiquette ...

First of all thank you to anyone who participated in my poll on which pair of House Stark characters have the most underrated/underappreciated similarities or paralells (and for so many of you for taking the poll in the spirit it was intended and staying respectful in your tags- I always worry about that as part of the asoiaf/got fandom, particularly being a Sansa-stan and Jonsa shipper in general)

I was using this poll as a bit of research/inspiration for a future art series I wanted to do (there are just so many possible paralells/comparisons that I find intriguing or emotionally compelling, but i can only devote so much time to one specific art piece/series and was really struggling to narrow down the specific character pairs I wanted to focus on- hence the poll I made!)

So after getting an idea about which parallels resonate with people -and feel are underrepresented or unappreciated by fandom- and holding to the idea that if you want to see something specific or rare discussed or done in fandom/fanfiction/or fanart sometimes you just have to do it yourself ... I've checked the results and have decided I'm eventually going to do a cross-generation art series exploring certain characters' narrative parallels/similarities to eachother as well as a tribute to any canon relationship they have to one another...

It will include a Sansa & Ned piece, a Robb & Lyanna one, and lastly an Arya & Catelyn one.

Side note I'm also thinking of doing a separate Jonsa art piece that focuses a bit on the many ways their plotlines/arcs/dreams mirror one another.

(It's all going to take awhile- a few months probably but I'm very excited and I've already started brain storming ideas)

Ok now that I've expressed my appreciation and shared the more positive outcome from this poll now I want to take a moment to vent a bit about some of the negative backlash, address my general stance on antis, and give a little reminder about general fandom etiquette...

(I've tagged this accordingly so I'm unsure that any of the people this is directed at/could benefit from reading this will ever encounter it... but still I think its important to put it out there- even if only because it allows me to process my own thoughts and feelings on the matter)

(This may at times come across slightly bitchy- I'm alright with that but I decided I'd preface this by emphasizing... This is intended as a criticism of toxic stans... it is not the condemning of a specific character/certain character parallels, and it is not criticism of people who are simply fans of said character in general... everyone understand that? Good lets move on)

So I'm sort of feeling darkly amused about how (with I think a single nice exception?) the comments made on this poll (even multiple in a row from one user) were people wanting to complain that I chose to excluded some pair/parallel that they prefer ....

Instead of taking... what 10 seconds?... to read my explanation around why certain pairs were excluded from the poll- which would have apparently saved them a lot of grief...

(I.e. its not that the parallels between these pairs aren't present OR that I don't think they are meaningful... it's simply that I feel those sets of characters are very high profile and are frequently discussed in terms of their parallels by a significant portion of fandom and thus should NOT be included in a poll meant to consider underappreciated Stark character parallels)

...And then say deciding to either take this poll in the spirit it was intended (once again... to consider what is the most underrated/underappreciated stark paralells? NOT to focus on or reiterate some of the most talked about ones in all of asoiaf fandom?) or choosing to simply scroll past if they weren't interested in the options/design of the poll..

They instead chose to have a hissy fit in the comments about how offended they were that Lyanna was listed as having parallels with any Stark kid other than Arya (not just Sansa- which unfortunately is not exactly an unexpected response but apparently the idea of Robb + Lyanna having paralells was also deeply offensive. Who knew? I would have expected all the house stark boys were completely immune to the unecessary hate/criticism/dismissal that so much of fandom and many arya stans gleefully direct towards Sansa)

Or took the time to explicitly complain that I didn't include Arya being compared to.... whoever? Ned and Jon I think, maybe others? I've forgotten their explicit instructions on all their arya stan approved comparisons. Because isn't it sooo biased of me not to include these pairs because clearly Arya is the only character who can rightfully be compared to Lyanna or Ned... even in a post explicitly about parallels underrated by fandom!!! These commonly discussed parallels absolutely NEED to be an option even then... and if it isn't it has to be because the person who made it is prejudiced and biased-not because the pair/character parallels dont actually fit the poll criteria.

Really this just further justifies my disappointment in certain types of stans and makes me feel I wasn't being pessimistic or jumping at shadows when I listed my second reason for avoiding including those as pairs in this poll (i.e. wanting to avoid devoting space to pairs/paralells that bring out the worst in certain toxic stans- i just dont need to deal with that and neither does anyone else)

...when I say that certain character parallels bring up weird defensiveness/unpleasantness/stubborness in fans .. well these people choose to respond to such a statement by just literally proving my point.

If you dont like this poll instead of leaving comments to complain about it and its creator maybe go make your own Arya centric one?... would that not be a better use of your time? Or are you so lacking in creativity/the ability to think critically and express yourself persuasively that you can only ever complain about the content other's make and never actually be a productive or positive member of fandom through creating your own content?

All your actions do is make it less enjoyable to read or discuss said popular character or character parallels... you actively drive people away from the fandom discussion around your favorite characters/character parallels... which is an interesting choice to say the least.

I would love to plan out fanart that explores both the major and subtler ways the stark sisters echo both of their parents and even each other... but I am hesitant... Arya stans like these totally just reinforce both my concern that such content would not generally find acceptance/appreciation and my certainty that I would not even simply be peacefully left alone to explore or share these ideas without toxic stans invading my blog to bitch to me about... i don't know? How I'm awful for choosing to taint asoiaf things that sacredly belong only to Arya by including/linking them to evil incarnate Sansa or fandom nobody Robb? That I'd dare malign someone as precious as Arya by having the audacity to think or say that she has similarities to the useless female characters Sansa or Catelyn?

I'm a fan of all the stark kids (including Arya- i love the Stark sisters and wish more fandom discussion around their relationship was based in empathy and nuanced consideration rather than being mostly vitriolic and obviously biased) but stans like this make me not want to branch out beyond the more Sansa/Jonsa centric circles or content... because at least with this part of fandom I encounter people used to seeing/experiencing rudeness or outright harassment and who are not interested in behaving that way themselves (notice people weren't up in arms and taking to the comments in outrage about me choosing to not include and list Sansa and Catelyn parallels ... almost as if Sansa-stans don't harass or criticize people in their own posts... unlike many others I could list)

(including me!!!! I tag my content/art as in depth as possible not just to make it easy to find but also as a curtesy to be easy to filter or block for those who aren't interested in certain fandoms/ships/or even my art and content in general

I wish these people would remember that fandom is a hobby and we do this because we enjoy it... curate your fandom experience, scroll past things that don't interest you/filter any tags you want/block content or blogs that you don't like or don't care to see.

I am doing my part!

I am not willfully invading/infecting your space in fandom with my terrible interest in the starks/sansa/jonsa... use your damn filters and/or block my blog ... don't leave nasty comments for me or the other people to see)

Seriously!!!! Don't waste your energy on negativity, or your time on being rude or purposefully invading specific fandom spaces just to criticize and argue with people in fandom who you disagree with

... because I'm not going to engage with you or argue with you or in any way validate/reinforce your shitty behaviour, I'm not going to sink to your level by invading your blog or your posts to complain about you or your interests... I'm going to block you wearing a smile (just one less unpleasant person to run into in this fandom)

and lastly I'm just going to continue to post/enjoy all the characters/topics/ships that you hate.

and if I complain about what you've done or use it to emphasize my stance on specific antis or fandom conduct in general it will be only ever be in my own posts on my own blog- without explicitly identifying you/referencing your blog/or directing actual harassment or negativity towards you ... (I'm not going to make you feel justified in your negative opinions about/harassment of sansa-stans, jonsa fans, or just literally anyone in fandom who you disagree with... I'm not going to give you evidence/ammunition to slander or smear segments of fandom you consider undesirable... I'm just not going to lower myself the way you do... i have more respectful for myself and for other people in fandom... I'm content to let you look like the asshole and never have to think about you again)

if you failed to develope the ability to give enough of a shit about other people to be respectful in fandom spaces, filter and block accordingly, or at least be civil in your interactions please have enough respect for your own free time and at least care enough about your own emotional well-being and happiness to start acting this way ... Swear to god this will make things more enjoyable not just for others but for yourself as well

Now I'm going to go back to reblogging/making fan art of things I like... because it makes me happy and I don't wish to invest anymore time on negative things or negative people.

- Crimson Cold

#crimson cold thoughts #asoiaf/got fandom critical #anti arya stans #anti sansa antis #asoiaf/got #future art planning #thoughts on Parallels between members of House Stark #thoughts on general fandom etiquette #not the focus but for filtering ->#jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #Robb and Lyanna parallels #sansa and ned parallels #Arya and Catelyn parallels #Jon and Sansa parallels

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vampirepirates · 2 months ago

Text

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist:

author's note + cast list

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

CHAPTER FIVE - WINTER IS COMING.

every time, i'd burn through the world — i'd see

that the world, it burns through me.

Between raising two children, training to become a better swordsman, and managing her duties as a lady — Lyarra had very little time to herself. If she wasn't with one of her own, she was looking after one of the other Stark children for Eddard and Catelyn. Since Gogni's death, she hadn't once left Winterfell. Even traveling down that train of thought had her seizing with fear. Instead, she spent her nights practicing her work with a blade.

Reyne was seemingly growing taller by the minute. Her blonde locks reached down to her belly button by now, with similarly blonde lashes — almost a mirror image of the red-haired boy from years before. Initially, her appearance had caused a stir within the castle. Eddard had questioned her ceaselessly, but Lyarra never answered any of his inquiries. Similarly to when he had returned with Jon, she only told him that she couldn't answer him truthfully — pleading with him to not ask her to do so. Eventually, the man conceded. His wife did no such thing, however Lyarra paid her no mind. Reyne would be raised under Lyarra's care. In her eyes, she was a Stark — but neither she nor Jon would ever be able to take the name. Once she was old enough, it was decided that she would be given a job as a handmaiden. Lyarra argued that Reyne should be treated as her own daughter, and that she should not have to work to stay — but she had pushed her luck far enough already, and Eddard wouldn't do much more than blink at her. She had no Stark blood within her, unlike Jon.

The two were thick as thieves from the moment that Lyarra brought her home. The gap between the two was minimal, and it was evident in the way they treated one another as equals. Jon quickly accepted Reyne as his family, as she did with him. It was oddly reminiscent of Lyarra's own relationship with Benjen, and the thought forced a bittersweet feeling to course through her. Benjen had returned only thrice now, and each time he waited at the gate for Jon to come running. He'd accepted Reyne into his heart as easily as Jon had, and had taken to picking the girl up and spinning her each time he saw her. As much as seeing her brother overjoyed Lyarra, she couldn't help the beat of trepidation each time she watched him speak with Jon. More than once now, he'd brought up the Night's Watch to her. He was still too young to be a member now, a thought that calmed her ever-so-slightly, but one could see his own anticipation building. He wanted to be like his Uncle Benjen, and Lyarra couldn't fault him for that — but that didn't make dealing with the fact any easier.

While Lyarra was glad to see Jon have a friend — have family, even — other than Robb, it was growing increasingly evident that he wasn't any less of an outsider. He still longed to be Ned's true-born son, something that conflicted, as well as saddened her in equal measure. She viewed Jon as her own, and had since the moment he'd been placed in her arms. She knew in her heart that he wasn't hers, but to see him long to be someone else's entirely was not an easy thing for her to accept. Lyarra did her best to appease to her brother, coaxing him into allowing Jon into more familial settings. While Jon was never allowed to sit by the family at feasts, she herself would place herself next to him. It was torturous for Lyarra, watching the boy so desperately try to be a part of a family that he wasn't made for.

Beyond Jon and Theon, Lyarra was not particularly close with any of the Stark children. They were her kin, so she had always had love for them. But, she'd never struck a proper bond with the rest. Robb was too eager, a trait that only Jon had been able to match. Oftentimes when the two sparred, she would stand at Theon's side — critiquing their form. Robb had brushed off her advice more than once, but Jon would always correct himself — listening to each word. Sansa, from the moment she was born, was meant to be a lady. She welcomed the fact with pride, something that Lyarra herself had never been able to do. Within a few years, it had been decided that Reyne would be her handmaiden. Initially, the two hadn't gotten along-- which came as no surprise to Lyarra, considering Sansa's other relationships with the 'help'. But overtime, the two grew closer than she'd expected. Sansa hadn't seem to have accepted Reyne into the family by any means, but the two were good friends — close enough that she allowed Reyne to travel with her wherever they went.

It wasn't until the birth of Arya, that Lyarra found herself developing a true bond with one of the Stark children. Arya was the brasher, more cunning version of Lyanna Stark. There was a boundless list of similarities between the two, and yet Lyarra still felt as if she had never met someone like Arya. From the moment she was old enough, she wanted to learn to swing a blade. Jon had been hesitant, afraid of causing her any kind of harm — but Lyarra was more than willing.

Initially, Eddard had advised against it. He and Catelyn knew that Arya was also meant to be a lady of the court. Yet, in true fashion, Lyarra did nothing to heed his words. She only agreed to not allow Arya a true sword, instead promising to teach her with a wooden blade. Additionally, the two only ever practiced at night — just before Arya was meant to take herself to bed. Sometimes Jon would oversee their movements, chiming in to assist his sister. Other times, Eddard would watch from a distance — smiling softly in his own secretive way that Lyarra had come to know all too well.

Arya, similar to Robb, had never seemed to look at Jon differently for being a 'bastard.' The day that she'd learned what it meant, she had laughed in Lyarra's face. In her eyes, Jon was her brother — whether they shared the same mother, or no.

Catelyn, however, was a complicated figure. Lyarra sympathized with the woman, and tried to reach out to her more than once after the death of Brandon. Initially it had seemed as if Lyarra's connection with Jon had established resentment within Catelyn, however the woman did her best to maintain a connection between the two. More often than not, she would request Lyarra's assistance with the children — even if just to sit with her while she watched them. Lyarra longed to be closer with her, even if just to have a sister again. But their differences were too great. Again, she couldn't help but wonder how different things would have been if she had married Edmure Tully as she was meant to.

The birth of Brandon 'Bran' Stark served to surprise Lyarra further. The boy was even more adventurous than she had been at his age, often climbing whatever it was that he could find. She had half the heart to tell him of the clearing beyond the woods, before thinking better of it. Bran, who was hardly reminiscent of his namesake, had come to Lyarra more than once in the middle of the night — as if he knew he wouldn't be waking her from her slumber. He'd spend hours asking her about the world that she knew, asking her to tell him anything she could think of. Lyarra would spin her own stories more often than not, but there were a few times that she would tell the boy of the tales she'd heard with the Free Folk. Since she had fled from the camp, Lyarra never once mentioned any of their names. She wouldn't speak of any of it, not even to Reyne. When Bran had questioned where she'd heard the 'story of a man who had suckled at the teat of a Giant', Lyarra only shrugged — pushing him out of her chambers with a light smile.

More often than not, Jon had found himself in her chambers as of late as well. His nightmares had been more frequent than ever, resulting in him pounding on her door in the middle of the night. By the third time it'd happened, Lyarra had learned to leave her door open a fraction — if only to save herself from the harrowing sound of his loud knocking. Every night since Jon could remember, he dreamt of a girl with hair so blonde it could've been white — with eyes of a violet hue, and a snow-white complexion. In Jon's eyes, it didn't appear to be a dream — on either side. The girl had seemed to notice him as well, though she never told him her name. Lyarra had never heard of someone sharing dreams, and had half the mind to question Maester Luwin — if not for Jon begging for her secrecy. He did not want the girl to go away, as if he was scared of what it meant.

The Stark children had seemed to age at a speed beyond Lyarra's control. Before she knew it, Bran was standing tall at her hip — with Robb and Jon towering over her. Even Sansa had almost reached her in stature by now, though Arya seemed to have no such luck.

Lyarra watched from the stone window of her chambers, as the boys helped Brandon nock his arrows. Eddard and Catelyn were also watching from the platform above the group, and she observed as they had warm smiles of their own. Each time, Bran had missed. Lyarra herself had never been proficient with a bow, but the boy barely reached the target itself. Jon, unsurprisingly, stepped forward to assist the boy each time — recommending a different approach whenever Brandon had missed.

She couldn't make out what Jon had said to the boy due to their distance, but when they both turned back to glance at her — Lyarra couldn't help but shoot the boy a supportive grin. Jon matched it with one of his own, patting Bran on the back as the boy turned to the target once more. Again, the boy missed after a moment — and chuckles echoed through the courtyard. Just barely, Lyarra could hear Eddard admonishing the boys — and couldn't help but let out a laugh of her own.

Just as she had begun to settle down, Lyarra watched as an arrow met its mark — finally reaching the center of the target. She'd gone to clap instantly, before noticing the arrow still nocked in Bran's bow. From her spot, she couldn't see where the shot had come from — but after Jon's laugh echoed through the yard again, she could just barely make out Arya's retreating figure, with Bran on her tail.

Lyarra took the chance to make her way down to the yard then, as she watched Ned move from his spot on the platform. Jon hadn't moved an inch, and instead he was cleaning up after the other boys — as Robb was removing the arrows from the target. Lyarra placed her hand on the boy's shoulder, gently notifying him of her presence.

"You saw that, then?" Jon laughed, shaking his head as he replaced the arrows in the basket. Lyarra grinned, watching as the other Stark boys began to argue in the distance. Just barely, she could still make out Arya running in the distance — Bran not far behind her.

"It was hard to miss." Lyarra admitted after a moment, tilting her head as she felt eyes burning into her. There, still above the two on the platform, stood Catelyn. Her glare towards the boy was sharp, the hate within her eyes evident. In an instant, Jon seemed to shrink in on himself. Before she could allow herself to do much else, Lyarra smiled at the woman above them — attempting to placate her nerves. Catelyn, remembering herself, did seem to calm at that — even shooting Lyarra a timid smile of her own, before she marched off.

Lyarra rarely observed her brother's executions, so it came as no surprise when she'd only pulled Jon's furs tighter around him — before stomping off to find the girls. After Arya's stunt earlier, she was nowhere to be seen — but she was able to spot Reyne and Sansa together, as they were sewing something for Septa Mordane. Reyne's smile was instant, while Sansa's eyes only slightly brightened at her arrival.

"Ah, my Lady! You must see Lady Sansa's work. It's simply beautiful. The stitching is near perfect, wouldn't you say?" Septa Mordane clasped her hands as she spoke, the cheerfulness in her tone almost sickening. Lyarra couldn't bring herself to do much more than nod, as she placed a hand on Sansa's shoulder. She'd never been very good at sewing herself, a fact that Old Nan had often criticized her for — but she did have to admit, her work was appealing. She stood there for only a moment longer, placing a kiss on the foreheads of the two girls — before she made her way through the castle.

Lyarra had only just made her way back to the yard before she just barely made out the sound of light footsteps. She willed herself to be silent, only taking a short breath before she reached her hand out — plucking the girl up by her furs. Arya grunted, legs swinging wildly in the air. She yelled for the woman to put her down, and after another fit of laughs Lyarra conceded. She was met with Arya's frustrated grin, a sight that only further amused her.

"That's no fair! You're twice my height, and then some. You don't see me kicking your ankles when you walk by, do you?" Arya's complaints were half-nonsense, as she grumbled to herself. Lyarra leaned back to watch the girl ramble in amusement. It was true, the action was unnecessary — and yet each time she had the opportunity, she found herself repeating it. Brandon was too large for her to successfully pick him up any more, which left only Arya for her to terrorize — as Rickon would cry each time she'd tried.

"You're good with a bow. I didn't know you'd been practicing." Came Lyarra's reply after she'd wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. Arya reeled from the sudden topic change, as her arms came to cross themselves across her defensively.

"Only when Bran leaves his behind." Arya muttered out, foot still swinging beneath her as she stomped. Lyarra's heart warmed at the sentiment. Had Bran left his bow out and Eddard noticed, the boy would have been admonished to no end. They were taught to have greater respect for their belongings. Arya knew this all too well, and took the opportunity to help both her brother and herself.

The two were interrupted, then, by the sound of the gate creaking open. They made their way to the crowd together, only pausing when they noticed the creatures in the boys hands. Each one held a wolf pup — a direwolf, she'd later come to know. While they were gone, they'd come upon a litter of pups — and Jon, she'd been told, was the one to suggest that each Stark child had one of their own. Robb had named his Grey-Wind, Sansa named her lady, Arya— Nymeria, Brandon— Summer, Rickon— Shaggydog, while Jon named his Ghost. Reyne had been delighted at the sight of the pup, and dashed forward to see him. At that, Ghost had almost cowered further into Jon's arms. From that day on, Jon rarely went anywhere without Ghost at his side. If he had to leave him behind for any reason, Lyarra was likely the one watching him. Reyne took the opportunity to visit more than once, normally when Sansa was at her lessons.

The death of Jon Arryn came suddenly, without warning. Lyarra hadn't known the man well, but she knew of her brother's love for him. She admired the man for protecting her brother — as well as the King — with honor. She'd been beside Eddard at the weirwood tree, when Catelyn had approached. Lyarra had come to the same spot with Eddard more than once, after an execution, as he took the time to collect his thoughts as well as himself. She would never say anything, choosing only to relish her time outside of the castle itself. As Catelyn stepped forward, Lyarra turned herself in the slightest to give the two more space.

"All these years and I still feel like an outsider when I come here," She'd heard, observing as Catelyn stared wondrously at the tree. She knew the feeling all too well. Although she was a Stark, through and through, she'd felt like an outsider every day of her life. Unlike Catelyn, however, this was one of the only places that she'd felt as if she did belong.

"You have five northern children, you're not an outsider." Came Eddard's eventual reply. After that, Lyarra did her best to tune the two out. She had no part in their talks, and that much was apparent. She pulled her furs tighter around herself, sharpening her own blade as Eddard cleaned his. Lyarra only properly tuned back in, once she'd observed brother's sorrow — silent, but clear as day in the way his brow had pinched. Jon Arryn was dead. Though she'd only remembered Lysa Arryn as the girl who had glared at her in Riverrun, she was thankful to hear that the woman and her boy were alright.

The brunt of the news came after. This time, Catelyn spoke to the two equally — meeting Lyarra's eyes with a gaze filled with sorrow of her own. The King, alongside his family, was riding to Winterfell. With the death of the hand, that could only mean one thing. The realization hadn't seemed to dawn on Ned, as he was too conflicted by his own emotions. Robert was Eddard's best friend, and despite his connection with Lyanna — he had never cared for the man any less. Lyarra, however, despised the man. Since the death of her sister, he'd only become worse in his own grief. The King was known as a drunk with a harsh temper. He married Cersei Lannister not long after the death of Lyanna, and within a few years they'd had their own litter of children.

"If he's coming this far North, there's only one thing he's after." Ned trailed off, staring into the reflection of his sword rather than meeting the gaze of the two women beside him. Lyarra met Catelyn's eyes warily, a fraction of her own fear reminiscent of the other woman's eyes.

"You don't have to agree, Ned." Lyarra all but whispered, as Catelyn had muttered her own words of agreement. The thought of her brother leaving to King's Landing, as Brandon had — as their father had, had her gut churning.

Once they had returned to the castle, Lyarra made her way to Jon within an instant. He'd been perched on a barrel, laughing as Theon demonstrated something vulgar with Robb. She'd seen this same act repeated between the boys more than once. Theon was the oldest of the group, and as such he felt obligated to teach the boys what he knew — more specifically, about the ways of women. When Lyarra had reached the group, she watched as Robb placed his hands on Theon's waist — leaning him towards the ground as if he meant to kiss him. They only stopped when Lyarra let out a light cough, raising her brow at their antics. Robb yanked Theon up with a laugh, patting Jon's back before he walked off. Theon, however, stood there for a moment — wobbling as if he couldn't stand properly. Lyarra could hardly hold back her laughter, as the boy's face was beet red. Robb called after him not long after, and she finally let out a chuckle once she noticed the speed Theon had chased after him. Jon only shook his head before he turned to face her properly

"I didn't mean to interrupt your fun," Lyarra posed the statement as a question, her brow still raised as she observed Jon's expression. He only shrugged, letting out a laugh of his own.

"I promise you, I wasn't the one having fun there." Lyarra couldn't help but agree, as she leaned against a post to look at the boy. Jon was unlike most boys his age. He never spoke of women, and when he did it was never in the way that Theon had. He seemed more interested in them as a concept, than as something to chase after.

"The King is riding for Winterfell. With his family." She told him after a moment, raising her elbows to place herself on a barrel of her own. Jon's eyes widened a bit, but he nodded all the same. He had never met the royal family, a fact that Lyarra herself had been thankful for. Beyond the color of his eyes, Jon appeared to be Lyanna's mirror-image. She could only imagine Robert's reaction when he saw him for the first time.

"You don't sound excited." Jon raised his own eyebrow at her then, tilting his head as if he didn't understand her intentions. Lyarra only shrugged, kicking her foot now that she had a bit of leverage.

"Can't say I have much reason to be. I'll look forward to when they leave, and I no longer have Catelyn up my arse' every minute of every day." Jon's laughter was hesitant, as if he was afraid the woman in question would hear. Lyarra, however, paid that no mind. She spoke freely, a fact that had landed her in trouble more than once. Before she could say another word, a snap of a twig echoed around them — and within a moment, a head of blonde hair timidly approached. Reyne, once noticing who the two were, noticeably relaxed — coming to stand by the two with a light smile of her own.

"What are they like? The Lannisters?" Reyne asked timidly, clutching the ends of her sleeves with her fingers. Lyarra paused at the question, thinking it over. She'd only ever truly met Jaime, and that was years prior. Now, he was a member of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard. She'd only seen Cersei from a distance, and had never even met the notorious 'imp' of the family.

"I suppose we'll all find out in the days to come. Now, off to bed with the both of you. We'll all have duties to attend to in the morning, and staying up until the sun rises won't make it any easier." With that, she placed a light kiss on their heads — before making her way to her own chambers. Lyarra did her best to not think the worst, but she dreaded the days to come. If Robert had his way, her brother would be leaving with the family by the end of their visit — no doubt with one of his children in tow. The thought only further sickened Lyarra, and she was only able to escape it once she shut her eyes — a feather pillow harshly placed over head to drown out the light.

The day of the King's arrival came all too soon. Throughout the morning she had been at Ghost's side, marveling at the size of the wolf. It'd only been a few weeks, and yet he was half her size. In the back of her mind, it reminded her of how quickly Jon grew. She only left the beast be when she heard Eddard calling for her. The family lined themselves up, standing in wait by the front gate. Lyarra herself stood on Catelyn's left. If she peaked past the two beside her, she could see Robb, followed by Sansa and Bran. Behind her stood Jory, Theon, and Jon. She longed to be at her boy's side, but Lyarra stood solemnly all the same. Just behind the two boys, she could see Reyne peaking over the crowd. Jon shifted, allowing her to see past him, and the sight brought a smile to her lips before she could control herself. After a moment Arya came barreling through with a helmet on her head. The girl's antics forced a reluctant chuckle from Lyarra's lips, though she was silenced with a glare from Catelyn.

Rickon bristled beside her as the riders approached the family, and Lyarra couldn't help but place a comforting hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. She noticed first, that the King wasn't leading the line. An unsurprising fact, but it left Lyarra to scan over those she could see. In the front was a member of the Kingsguard, though she couldn't see beyond the helmet to further look over who exactly it could be. Behind him, rode a blonde boy — too proud to be anyone other than the prince. Joffrey, then, she decided. Catelyn had described the members of their traveling party in length, and Lyarra only forced herself to listen in order to relay the information to Reyne.

The moment she looked beyond the Prince, Lyarra's breath caught in her throat. Catelyn glanced at her in concern, but she only waved the woman off. There, rode a man with chain-mail armor — with a helm resembling some sort of beast. As he opened his helm in the slightest, Lyarra found herself leaning forward to observe what was underneath it. She was only broken out of her stupor by the sudden movement beside her, as Catelyn tugged her sleeve down to kneel with the rest of the family. King Robert approached then, climbing off of his horse with a hefty grunt.

His stomps could be heard from inside the castle, Lyarra thought to herself. Once Robert motioned for them to stand, Lyarra was the first on her feet. He'd glanced over at her in that moment, eyes widening as he scanned over her features. She had met with Robert a handful of times now, and each time he would pause as if he thought she truly was Lyanna. He seemingly shook himself out of his own shock then, as he only turned back to her brother with a glare.

"You've got fat," Robert claimed after a beat of silence. Eddard only raised his brow, motioning towards the man himself. After another moment of quiet, the two laughed between themselves — hugging with joy that could only be found in reuniting with a loved one. Robert made his way to Catelyn then, pulling her close as well, as if the two were good friends. He paused when he came to stand in front of Lyarra, his smile slipping off of his face — making way for something uncertain. Lyarra forced a grin to tug at the corner of her lips, moving to curtsy in a way unbecoming of herself.

"Your Grace," She greeted, voice tight as she did her best to appear jovial. Robert moved to hug her then, his arms snug around her waist as she was forced to lean into his furs.

"Ah, Lyarra. As beautiful as ever." Lyarra could hardly hold back the flash of disgust that bled through her, but she held her head high as ever. The man moved from her then, ruffling Rickon's hair before standing beside the other children. She'd glanced back at Jon, meeting his worried glance with a smile that she could only hope was convincing.

As a woman with hair as blonde as the mane of a Lion stepped out of the carriage, Lyarra realized then that she could only be one person. Cersei Lannister. Her features were all too similar to that of Jaime's, though she could only vaguely recall them. She was beautiful, and carried herself in a way that Lyarra was certain she knew it. After a moment, more children climbed out as well. They all appeared to be smaller copies of herself, none even slightly resembling Robert Baratheon's round features. True lions, Lyarra thought to herself. She watched as the King made his way through the other Stark children, greeting them each with separate comments.

She only stopped when the Kingsguard from before reached to remove his helmet, releasing a pile of golden locks. In an instant, Lyarra knew it was Jaime Lannister. He'd grown ten-fold since last she'd seen him, and yet his eyes were just as youthful as they had been before. She found herself growing concerned on whether he would recognize her — or even remember her, for that matter — after all this time. Her concerns were only buried when he met her eyes from across the yard, his gaze sparkling with familiarity. She smiled at him then, eyes conveying a message that only he could understand. Similar to before, amusement flooded into his expression as he communicated with her through glances alone. All at once, he shut himself off — moving to stand behind the Queen, as Cersei turned to look in confusion. Following her brother's gaze, she met Lyarra's eyes with distrust. Lyarra forced herself to smile at the woman, doing her best to not shrink at her intensity. This seemed to do nothing to placate her, however she approached nonetheless.

Cersei held out an expectant hand to Eddard, as he leaned to kiss her hand. With the woman distracted, Lyarra turned to catch Jaime's gaze again — but he was all-too focused on the ground beneath him. She had no doubt that she wouldn't get the chance to even speak with him until later. Cersei came to stand in front of her then, moving into her line of sight with another curious glance.

"My queen," She greeted, curtsying as Catelyn had. Cersei lingered for a moment, scanning over Lyarra in a way that only further discomforted the woman. After a moment, she'd stepped away — giving Lyarra the chance to take a breath. She took the time to search for the man with the beast-shaped helm again, furrowing her brow as she came to notice that he was already looking at her. She held his gaze for a moment too long. He seemed familiar, in a way that she could not quite decipher. Lyarra was certain she hadn't met the man before, and yet his eyes glimmered in a way that she knew all too well. Before she had the chance to further investigate the man, she was interrupted by her brother stepping away from the group.

She shot him an inquisitive look, bordering on concern, but Eddard only smiled back at her — in a way that had not truly met his eyes. Lyarra took a breath then, choosing to listen in on the conversations beside her.

"Where's the imp?" She overheard Arya questioning, her tone expectant as if she had asked the same thing only minutes prior. Lyarra was seemingly not the only one who'd heard, as Cersei then turned to ask Jaime of his whereabouts. He shot Lyarra another quick look before he turned. She took the opportunity to glance over at Jon and Reyne, who almost stood side by side now. Theon, who had previously been at Jon's side, stood just behind Robb. Catelyn shot the two boys wary looks, but they seemed to pay her no mind. Once the group had begun to disperse, Lyarra quickly moved to Jon's side.

The rest of her night was spent preparing for the feast. While most ladies often had a handmaiden to take care of them — and ready them for most occasions, Lyarra had all but refused one. Instead, if she did need any help she would often ask for Reyne's assistance alone. Tonight in particular had been one of those nights. While the girl was braiding Lyarra's hair, Jon sat in the corner — perched on her dresser.

"D'you know Ser Jaime?" Jon questioned after a moment, twirling a dagger in his fingers. The inquiry gave Lyarra pause, and she glanced over at the boy with a raised brow.

"I knew him when we were children, yes. But it's been many years since we last spoke. Why do you ask?" She leaned back, wincing as Reyne tugged on the front of her hair. She liked to avoid these intricate designs when she had the chance, but Catelyn had all but demanded that everyone dress 'properly' for their guests.

"He's sort of beautiful." Jon whispered, trailing off as if he hadn't realized he spoke at all. At Lyarra's inquisitive glance, he grunted — sitting up and placing the dagger beside him. "In the way that all Knights are, I mean. He looks like he fell out of one of Bran's stories."

Lyarra couldn't help the laugh that followed. When she'd first seen Jaime, she'd traveled down a similar train of thought. It was hard to picture a man more perfect than Jaime Lannister. However, when she thought of the man there was far from attraction in her mind. She adored him, but not in the way that she'd felt for Gogni — nor Petyr, for that matter. Still, he was difficult to look away from.

"You were right the first time, I think. He's beautiful." Reyne whispered, curling her hands around Lyarra's locks wistfully. With a sharp look, she returned to her previous movements. Jon's response was an audible chuckle, one that was only interrupted by the distant sound of Catelyn shouting after one of her children. Lyarra sat up then, pulling her furs tighter around herself. She was adorned with a white fur pelt, a red gown trailing down her figure. Jon solemnly nodded as he moved to open the door for her. Jon wasn't to attend the feast at all, while Reyne was not to leave Sansa's side. As they approached the hall, Lyarra paused to kiss Jon's forehead — before entering with Reyne at her side. She took her seat beside Eddard, while Reyne was placed next to Sansa.

The feast itself passed agonizingly slow, as Lyarra had no choice but to mingle with guests. The man with the beast-shaped helm from earlier was nowhere to be found, a fact that only further suited to disappoint her. As she watched Eddard pour himself another drink, her heart only lightened when she heard a familiar voice.

"You two at a feast.." Benjen announced his presence, "It's like a bear in a trap." The sight of her brother instantly filled Lyarra with joy, and she could hardly hold herself back as she jumped into the man's arms. With a grunt, he picked her up with just as much fervor. He only pulled back to pat Ned on the back, before he slung an arm around Lyarra's shoulder.

Rather than meet Benjen with the same level of enthusiasm, Eddard had only forced a light — almost unnoticeable smile, on his lips. Within a moment, he was describing the beheading from earlier. Lyarra allowed herself to tune the two men out, taking the opportunity to peak over her brother's arm and gaze at the crowd. In the center was the King, with a woman on his lap. Beside him, men were cheering — arm in arm.

"Direwolves south of the wall, talk of the walkers, and my brother might be the next Hand to the king." Lyarra allowed herself a light laugh, leaning further into Benjen's arm as he trailed on. "Winter is coming." He'd finished, watching in amusement was Ned let out a laugh of his own.

"Winter is coming." Both she and Eddard repeated, nodding solemnly as the familiar words of their house poured from their lips. She'd said the same words so many times that Lyarra was convinced they'd lost their meaning, but they still held a weight in her chest each time. It was only when Robb approached to greet Benjen, that Lyarra allowed herself to slink away from her brothers.

The bite of the cold air was a welcoming gift as she snuck out of the hall. Lyarra perched herself on a bench, watching as the men walked the ramparts. She'd half expected Jon to be out here when she arrived, but the thought that he'd taken an early night to himself wasn't altogether surprising either. Instead, she relished the chance for comfortable silence — until, of course, that was broken by a sharp voice.

"Ah! The Lady Lyarra Stark. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. The stories do not do you justice, I must say." In truth, Lyarra was growing quite sick of golden-haired men. As the man approached her, she took notice of his stature. There was only one person he could be, due to his height alone.

"You must be Lord Tyrion, then?" She'd greeted, clasping her hands together on the wooden table to capture a bit of warmth. As he came closer, he'd taken her greeting as a warm welcome, placing himself on the bench across from her.

"My, is it that obvious?" He'd questioned, mock-offense littering his tone. For the first time in hours, Lyarra found herself struggling not to grin.

"All you Lannisters have the same hair. It's harder not to point you out." Sarcasm was heavy in her words, and she found herself longing for a drink to hide her smile in. As if he sensed her thought, Tyrion offered his cup of wine — presenting it as if he no longer wanted it. She had half the heart to wave him off, before she'd nodded and took it from his hands.

"Oh, of course. The hair! Not the 'impish' bits, at all."

"I've seen shorter." Lyarra admitted, shrugging as she took another sip of the wine. Her words brought an honest cackle out of the man, loud enough that she had to struggle not to startle where she sat. After she'd calmed, she found a giggle building its way in her chest.

"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Lyarra only guffawed at his words, glancing longingly down at the now-empty cup of wine. As Tyrion noticed her now solemn state, he let out his own roar of laughter. Within minutes, the two were leaning against the table with tears in their eyes.

"You two sound like a couple of fucking' drunks." A voice called out, then, harsh stomps following. It sounded distantly familiar, yet it was harsher than anything she'd heard in years. Lyarra forced herself to look up, taking in the large man's form. It was the man from earlier, who now only carried the helm in the crevice of his arm. Due to the lack of light in the yard, she couldn't properly see his face.

"Takes a drunk to know a drunk, Clegane." Tyrion's words shot a chill through Lyarra's body, and although the effects of the liquor began to take hold of her — she forced her eyes to narrow on the man's features. The name Clegane was familiar, forcing Lyarra to return back to years prior. To Lord Whent's tourney at Harrenhal. She remembers the fear in her heart as Gregor Clegane approached her, and then the overwhelming relief as she was saved by a smaller boy. One with burns littering his cheek, and eyes that appeared to stare back at her in this very moment. The man in front of her was the boy she'd been longing to find all throughout the tourney, Lyarra realized suddenly. The thought was almost sobering, but his glare was enough to muddle her brain.

The man before her seemed harsher than the boy who had come to her aid. His glare was heavy, though if she looked close enough — into the light of familiarity she had seen before in his eyes, she could see his own youth peaking through the cracks. Lyarra couldn't help the smile that came to her lips, as relief at finally finding the boy after years flooded through her. Her expression seemed to only further worry the man, and she only looked away when Tyrion coughed expectantly.

"And, as a drunk, I can say with confidence that it would appear that our lady is rather inebriated. Would you mind?" Lyarra could distantly make out, as she rested her temple against the cool wood of the table. She'd felt so many emotions within the past few moments that it was hard to hold back her exhaustion now, and she felt sleep over coming her. Before her eyes could properly shut, she felt herself being raised into the air — pressed against someone's chest. The chain-mail pressing into her sent chills through her body, and Lyarra found herself leaning into the warmth of whoever had been carrying her.

Distantly, she noticed the familiar feeling of her quilts, as she was seemingly placed within her bed. Just as quickly as the warmth had arrived, it disappeared. Lyarra was left to curl into her furs, and she couldn't fight back the sleep that overtook her this time.

The remaining days of the King's stay were just as dreadful as the days leading up to it. Lyarra knew, the morning after his arrival, that her brother had decided to go back with him to King's Landing. He'd been standing in front of her door, silent as ever, as she'd gone to make her way to the yard for the morning. His presence was enough to startle her, and she had to clutch her dress to calm herself.

"Forgive me, sister. I don't know how long I've been out here. Hours, maybe. I didn't want to disturb you, but.." Ned trailed off, avoiding her gaze as he readjusted his furs. Lyarra's own head was pounding after the night before, and she could hardly make out his words — but she did her best to focus, moving to place a comforting hand on her brother's arm. "I wouldn't ask this of you, had I another choice. I've asked too much of you as it is, I know that already."

Lyarra's heart went cold, as the implications of his words sunk in. He intended for her to come to King's Landing with him, with his daughters. He only looked further from her as she admitted her realization. She took her hand from his arm as quickly as she'd placed it, moving to curl around herself instead. She'd have to leave Winterfell, leave the only home she'd ever known. She'd have to leave Jon. That alone was enough to have Lyarra shaking her head in denial, stepping back from the man in despair. She couldn't leave him, not in Winterfell. Not alone. Reyne would be coming with them to serve as Sansa's handmaiden, but Jon? A bastard had no place in the royal court, something that Lyarra knew all too well.

"Maester Luwin came to me last night, just after the feast ended. He wants to join the Watch, Lyarra. Told Benjen so himself. He'll be safe among them. You know that, as well as I do. He'll be better off on the Wall, than here." Ned did his best to placate her, leaning down then to place his hands on her shoulders. She only shook her head, forcing herself to not allow tears to fall.

"He's just a boy, Ned. He's not ready for the Watch. I'll never see him again." Her words were panicked, jumbled rambles coming from her lips as her hands began to shake. In an instant, she was met with overwhelming warmth — as Eddard wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She couldn't help the tears that came then, as she all but sobbed in her brother's arms. "You can't. Please, Ned. Please, don't do this."

"I don't have a choice. I wish I did. I wish I was not asking this of you, but I am. I need your help." Eddard pulled back, wiping the pad of his glove against her cheeks as she closed her eyes to keep her tears at bay. "The Lannisters .. They had something to do with Jon Arryn's death, I know it. Robert needs my help, now more than ever. And I need yours." The revelation that the Lannisters could have done something so dastardly only had Lyarra's head shaking in disbelief. It was only when she peeled her eyes open, and was met with the true despair in Ned's eyes — that she knew he was telling the truth. He believed all that he was saying.

Lyarra couldn't bring herself to say anything then, only choosing to stand upright as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Eddard retreated then, telling her to think about it — though they both knew he wasn't giving her a choice.

Since that day, Lyarra had not left Jon's side. A fact that he seemed both grateful of, and annoyed by in equal measure. He did not know the life he was giving away. How could he, after all? She tried her best to not resent Benjen for the boy's decision, knowing that it was his alone to make — but if she found herself keeping away from her brother for a few days, that was her business alone. Jon was never her son. He was not her boy, though she would never see him as anything less. The fact alone only made his departure harder to handle.

Each night, once she was certain Jon was asleep, Lyarra would meet Tyrion Lannister in the yard. Despite her brother's best wishes, Lyarra couldn't force herself to be wary of the little lion. Some nights he would leave early to visit the closest brothel he could find. Other nights, they would be joined by the man from the previous night — the man she'd only come to know as 'Clegane'. Those nights, he would drink at Tyrion's side, chiming in only to let out a harsh laugh, or grunt. Despite how little she knew about the man, Lyarra couldn't hold back her fascination. More often than not, the man would scowl as she stared after him — likely assuming the worst. Yet Lyarra's face never held much more than a light smile, as she glanced over his features.

One night, when Tyrion had already slunk off, it was just the two sitting side-by-side on the bench. They hadn't spoke a word to one another, only passing the bottle back and forth when one needed a refill. After another beat of silence, the man grunted — sliding off of the bench as if to make his retreat.

"Oh, er— Ser!" She called after him, climbing off of the bench in haste to catch him before he disappeared into the darkness. He'd turned back to her hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure she was calling for him. When he noticed her focus, he only grimaced — forcing another swig down his throat.

"I'm no Ser," His words a familiar repetition of those that she'd heard years prior, and that alone was enough to shoot vigor through her. She only moved closer to him, a fact that made the large man seemingly shrink in on himself.

"So, it was you, then. You were at the tourney. You saved me that night, from Ser Gregor." Lyarra whispered in wonder, her eyes widening as she processed her own words. She'd been looking for the man for so long, that it was almost laughable that they'd reunited here — now.

"The fucks' it matter?" The man's words were harsh, but they alone were not enough for Lyarra to back down — and again, she took a step towards him, properly taking in his features. He was just as fascinating to her now, as he had been all those years ago.

"I'd like to know your name, if you'd let me. I've only known you as 'Clegane' for all these years." The name itself seemed to force the man to flinch, and he moved to stand taller as he remembered himself. Again, silence stretched between them. Lyarra had half the mind to question if she had overstepped, before the man turned on his heel. He took no more than four steps, before he paused.

"Sandor," he called over his shoulder, the name rough on his lips — as if he hadn't spoken it in years. With that, he was gone, and she couldn't have caught up to him if she wanted to. She tried the name on her lips a few times, before she turned to retreat to her own chambers. That night, she went to sleep a little lighter — a familiar name on her lips, and a certain weightlifted from her shoulders.

The day that Ned had left to hunt alongside Robert-- with Benjen and Robb in tow, Lyarra had been practicing with Theon in the yard. Catelyn had advised her against any swordplay while the King was their guest, but she paid the woman no mind. Theon was not the most proficient with a blade, but Lyarra relished the chance to spend time with him regardless. The boy was still harsh — particularly unkind to Jon. But she forced herself to push resentment aside. He was just a boy. And regardless of his less-than desirable attitude, she couldn't help but care for him.

The two were only disrupted by a familiar grunt. Lyarra asked the boy to clean up, as she made her way to Tyrion. He was perched on a set of steps, leaning his head against a wooden door — with furs draped over him. He was hungover, no doubt, but her figure blocking the sun in the slightest seemed to flood him with relief.

"Well, don't you just look lovely, my Lord Tyrion." Lyarra settled on his right, placing herself on the step just below him. He barely raised a brow at her, before leaning back against the door.

"Not all of us can handle our liquor as well as you, my Lady. Though, if I recall, you were the one who needed Clegane to carry you through your own castle." Tyrion grumbled out, though his words held no heat. Lyarra, however, felt heat course through her. She had thought it was Sandor who carried her to her bed, but she wasn't certain. Tyrion snickered to himself, as the two were interrupted by a rough stomp. Sandor all but threw himself down by the two, fastening his boots as he glanced over them both.

"Rough night, Imp?" He grunted after a moment, seemingly taking amusement at the disheveled state of the man. Tyrion only groaned, squinting to look at Sandor.

"If I get through this without squirting from one end or the other, it'll be a miracle." Came his eventual reply, and Lyarra only just barely cringed at his description. Sandor let out a noise that bordered on another grunt, and a laugh — at her expression.

"I didn't take you for a hunter, my Lord." Never once did the honorifics slip, though Lyarra had grown increasingly comfortable in the man's presence. Tyrion seemed to lean towards the direction of her voice, but didn't properly open his eyes to address her.

"On the contrary, my Lady, I am the greatest in the land. My spear never misses." Sandor, seemingly displeased at Tyrion's response, only grunted — standing to unsheathe his dagger.

"It's not hunting if you pay for it." He admonished, turning to Lyarra with a curious look. She had half the heart to question it, before she noticed Theon making his way towards her brother. Lyarra paused then, standing before turning back to the two men at her side.

"I wish you both good fortune." She declared, her gaze lingering on Sandor for a moment longer than necessary — before she bid them farewell, moving to follow Theon towards her brother. She delivered similar wishes to her brothers, making her way inside as they departed. The rest of her afternoon was spent at Reyne's side, as she, Sansa, and Catelyn were all sitting together. In the back of her mind, she thought over the location of the Queen — but made no motion to question her whereabouts. Catelyn seemingly had a similar thought, as she scanned over the hall. It was only when they heard a desperate cry ring through the castle, that any of them moved.

Brandon had been discovered in the courtyard, unconscious — and alone. No doubt, he'd fallen from the wall he'd climbed so often. Lyarra did not allow herself to cry, and only moved to help the boy — if only so that his mother herself did not have to do so. Once Bran was safely placed in his bed, with Maesters pushing the women out of the room, Lyarra allowed herself to shed a tear. In an instant, Catelyn was in her arms — shedding tears of her own.

She wasn't certain how long the two sat, wrapped in one another, muddled in their own sorrow. The only thing ringing through Lyarra's mind was the thought of how unfortunate it was, that she'd only once again found a sister through grief.

First proper episode of Game of Thrones.. AND a Sandor introduction. Guys are we winning or what. I loved writing this chapter and I am not sorry about it. Lyarra loves her two children (who aren't at all her children) so much. Theon as well, sometimes.

So. Lyarra can't hold her alcohol. Tyrion is too easy to drink with. Jon wants to leave. Ned does not want to leave. And Jaime is being weird ... what a great set-up! Stay tuned btw.. Reyne's storyline is not as predictable as I am setting it up today.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And as always, feel free to leave any comments you have.

Thank you,

Zevran.

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