From the time Lyanna Stark was a young girl, she knew she was different. She had a sight others didn't possess - the ability to see those who had died without fulfilling their lives, those who were trapped between a state of dead and living.
Appearing to her to be as real as humans, they only difference being a blurring haze around them, and the bright blond of their hair. If she focused long enough, she could tell what colour their hair had been when they were still living.
Sometimes they wandered her home of Winterfell as if they still lived, others just watched the living, often times their families, continue on without them. The majority though, stayed down in the crypt. There, they would retell stories of their lives, and make attempts to figure out what it was they hadn't done correctly in their lives. Some, often men, sat weeping atop a stone as they realised the true consequence of all their previous horrendous actions.
That was Lyanna's life growing up - speaking and learning from the dead - though after she learned about the White Walkers that once terrified the world, she preferred the term 'ghosts'.
Over the years, they taught her many things. With many of the ghosts being her ancestors, they were more than willing to teach her tricks on how to improve her riding, sword and even needle skills. In return, she offered to help fill the gap that their lives had left; the gaps that they were stuck within. Sometimes it was easy, sometimes hard, sometimes impossible.
Occasionally, it would occur without her even trying to do so, and she would hear later that day that a ghost had passed on to the next world. It gladdened her, yet saddened her. Sometimes she knew them very well, others she didn't even know the names of. Generations upon generations of ghosts, and she couldn't even remember all their names.
There were the few ghosts that were so old though, they themselves no longer remembered who they were.
After her brother left for the Eyrie, she took it upon herself to train up her brother, Benjen. There was one ghost, hidden deep within the crypt, who seemed to know everything. On dark nights, she would come out of hiding to find Lyanna, and watch over her. Occasionally, the old ghost would tell her stories of dragons, magic and the White Walkers.
On one of those nights, the old Ghost told Lyanna of how her brother, Benjen, would need to learn how to fight, and to fight well, for his future would require a higher level of skill in swordsmanship than anyone human could currently predict.
Though the wording confused Lyanna, she understood, and made sure to keep giving her little brother worthy opponents, including herself. So, as he improved Lyanna also ensured her skills remained up to par.
Years later, the old ghost came to Lyanna again with an odd look upon her face. "It is time I told you something I knew long before all of this, long before I even died. I believe my telling you this will finally allow for me to fade into the next world, and I feel you are finally ready to be without my stories, child."
Lyanna, already sat up in her bed, moved over and patted the space beside her. While ghosts could interact with objects, they tended not to do as not to scare people that couldn't see them. They were still able to make use of things such a stairs, beds and chairs fairly easily.
With a smile, the old ghost settled into the space beside the girl, and gently pushed some of Lyanna's hair away from her eyes. "A few years from now, your heart will believe it will belong to a man of raven hair. You will tell him you enjoy feathers, though we both know you to prefer flowers, or ribbons for your horses. Once you are betrothed, the one your heart is for will come to you."
Lyanna pondered the new information for a time, going over it in her head until she'd memorised it. "How will I know who he is?"
The old ghost took a breath, and leaned back while her eyes closed momentarily. Keeping them closed, she replied, "His hair is whiter than the sands of Dorne, almost alike that of my kind. You may meet him a few times without knowing who he is, but at the Tournament after your betrothal, he will be the victor and give you the crown of winter roses."
With a silent nod, after the old ghost reopened her eyes, Lyanna confirmed she understood.
"And now for the last," the old ghost began, "In every generation of the Stark family there has been a special one, you are the one for this generation. Even I am not old enough to know why, perhaps some gift from the Children centuries ago. The next will be a son of Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell."
Lyanna gasped, but the old ghost sent her a hard look, ensuring her silence for the next few minutes. "His son will be one of the most special in the world. That is a matter for those to come after you, though. Know now, that you must trust your brother Ned, in everything. He is the one you can trust with your most precious possession."
After a little more conversation and clarification, the old ghost smiled with a sigh, and faded into the next world.
In the years after, Lyanna did just as the old ghost asked of her.
Robert Baratheon, a man with raven black hair, was the man she became betrothed to. She remembered the words spoken in the dark of the night, and graced the future Lord of House Baratheon with smiles and giggles, telling him she favoured feathers as a gift.
There wasn't any room for Rob in her heart, however. The words of the old ghost had changed that, since Lyanna's mind and heart knew there was another. She planned to just play her part happily until the day of the Tournament, then she'd find a way to call off the engagement and be with the one meant for her.
Things were arranged around her without much discussion with her. She'd be married in about a year, with a Tournament to celebrate within a few months. She'd be staying in King's Landing for about two weeks before the Tournament so she could rest from the long travel - not like she'd be very tired from sitting in a carriage or trap the whole journey, but it wasn't her place to complain.
Instead, she spent her days hunting in the forests of Winterfell, mostly avoiding the inevitability that was spending time with Rob. While she could admit that her brother's best friend was a good man, who always paid her compliments and gifted her with feathers from exotic birds, she found his company bland and his stories uneventful.
There were also the rumours of his ability to outdrink her eldest brother, and his frequent visits to whore houses. Even her brother Ned did not deny him already having a daughter at the Eyrie. She attempted to accept it as usual behaviour for a man his age, but something about it didn't sit right with her. Often, he would speak of love to her, and she considered love to be a lifetime commitment.
Which was why she could only commit her life to the man that won the Tournament in a few months.
After a month's travel, Lyanna, her father and her brothers, as well as their retinue, arrived at King's Landing. Originally, the plan was to stay in a tavern, but once King Aerys II heard that the Lord of the North was in King's Landing, troops were sent to escort them to the Red Keep.
Formal introductions to the royals left Lyanna stunned - every member of the royal family had the same hair as a ghost! At first, she believed them all to be ghosts, but upon closer inspection she realised that, while there were a few ghosts lingering around the city, these were of the living world. Her stunned brain left little time for her to truly take in the faces of the family besides the King and Queen, which she supposed was enough until she interrogated her Septa for assistance in the morning.
Eventually, Lyanna found herself relaxing on a big soft bed, in a room twice the size of her own at Winterfell, which she'd been told were 'regretfully rather small'. It'd almost caused her to giggle. But Lyanna was the She-Wolf of the House Stark, and only graced a select few with her giggles.
Her Septa fussed about, unpacking and muttering about this and that, until eventually Lyanna excused her, claiming wanting to sleep early.
In actuality, ghosts that had travelled with her from Winterfell were all abuzz - the ghosts here in King's Landing were excited to meet *another* person that could see them. The prospect of another person with her sight intrigued her, and she agreed to meet them all in the Throne Room, amongst the dragon skulls, once everyone but guards were asleep.
Just as she was beginning to fall asleep, a child ghost she didn't know cane to her, and spoke with an odd accent that was similar to that of King's Landing. "Come, I'll show you have to get past the guards!"
So, with her hand in the young ghost boy's, she silently crept through the halls of the Red Keep until finally finding herself within the Throne Room.
She'd been within the room before, when greeting the Royal family, but hadn't been brave enough to cast her gaze around and take in the dragon skulls as much as she'd wished to.
As she neared the skulls, a very regally attired ghost appeared before her, approaching first before the others.
With a gracefully bow, he introduced himself as Aegon the Unlikely, the previous king who had tried to hatch stone dragon eggs.
Nervously, Lyanna had gone to bow, yet received a shake of the head and a chuckle from the former Targaryen King. "I am neither dead nor living - forsaken until The Seven are repaid their due for what was required of my life. Though, I'm sure you're already aware of that."
Lyanna felt a blush tingling her cheeks.
For the next few hours, she simply conversed with the ghosts of King's Landing, hearing and sharing stories and making jests. Eventually though, she grew too tired to continue, and was sneakily returned back to her room by the same little boy.
Once in her room, Lyanna turned to the boy, "I never caught your name?"
The little boy gave a smile, "Viserys Targarean." And then disappeared off down the hall.
The days passed uneventfully, with Lyanna claiming to be ill in order to sleep during the day and converse with the ghosts by night. Always, she'd been much more comfortable speaking with ghosts than humans, finding them to be always truthful and kind, even those who had not been so in life. Death seemed to change something in all of them, and while there was a deep melancholy held within the faces of all ghosts, there was also a happiness. They were able to live, seemingly forever, without hunger or thirst. For most, it was like being on the edge of a coin, where one side held a dream and the other a nightmare.
So, unlike her usual She-Wolf persona that was tough, wild and unreachable, around ghosts she was able to show a softer side that only Ned and Benjen has every truly seen. She felt relaxed around the dead, knowing they can't speak to others except themselves.
At a week into her stay at King's Landing, the ghosts decided to hold a celebration - for what exactly, she didn't know. But as the night went on, and music was played quietly while ghosts sang loudly, Lyanna found herself dancing all around the great throne room - even blushingly upon the Throne itself, but she was dancing with Aegon at that point so she supposed it was alright.
And then she was spun away by Aegon into the arms of another, and allowed herself to giggle as the next man caught her and continued the joyful dance.
When the song ended, this ghost guided her away from the others, to sit upon a medium sized dragon skull. Lyanna was grateful for the chance to rest, as she was unlike the ghosts with their inability to grow tired.
As she caught her breath, she noted the ghosts continued gaze upon her. "Thank you, for spotting I needed a rest."
An almost stoney, deep voice answered her with. "It's my duty to help damsels in distress."
Lyanna gave an unladylike snort. "Trust me, if I was in distress, I could save myself quite easily."
"Truly?" The deep-voiced ghost, whom Lyanna was still refusing to truly look at, questioned.
Smoothing back her hair, which had become loose from her dancing so she now just let it all fall down, Lyanna nodded. "My brothers, Bran and Ned, taught me how to use a sword on foot and horseback from the same age they were taught. I then taught my little brother Benjen how to fight when it was his turn. He's nearly better than Ned, he'll be a great warrior when it's his time."
"I'll be sure to watch his progress." Before Lyanna could question why, the ghost continued. "You're Lyanna Stark, the Wolf Maiden?"
Lyanna smiled, gazing at the teeth of a great dragon - it still looked so sharp. "I prefer the She-Wolf, and you?"
Her gaze finally moved to his face, and was struck by the fact he must have been a Targaryen. Lyanna had the impression that Aegon was the only Targaryen here, but she guessed this man must've kept himself from her sight.
"They call me the Dragon Prince," The ghost have a smirk, as if expecting something from Lyanna. So, she just put her hand out for him to shake.
"Nice to meet you, Dragon Prince." Many ghosts Lyanna knew had forgotten their names, so she wasn't surprised by the apparent nickname.
The Dragon Prince gave her another smirk, with more of a tease to it. "Nice to meet you too, Wolf Maiden."
It was only when little Viserys was walking her back to her rooms, that she realised something. Whenever a ghost touched her skin, there was a weird tingling, like silk being run over her skin instead of flesh. All the time Dragon Prince was touching her, and Viserys for that matter, it just felt like normal human flesh.
The realisation made her heart stutter, and she stopped right there in the corridor.
"Lady Lyanna, we only have a few minutes before a guard will walk by." The little boy kept tugging away at her hand, but she could not move.
Then loud, heavy footsteps could be heard, and still she could not move.
"Who goes there?" The guard asked sternly in the dim light, sword hilt already in hand.
Before either could speak, Lyanna felt a body suddenly standing right behind her.
"Stand down," Came the deep voice of Dragon Prince. "The Lady Lyanna was sleepwalking, my brother and I were just guiding her back to her room."
The guard stood uncertain for a moment, before continuing on his way, and Lyanna finally breathed, slumping back into the chest of Dragon Prince, too stressed to even care about who she was slumped against.
Princely as he was, she was up in his arms as if she was as light a feather as soon as the guard was gone, and being carried down to her room.
Next Lyanna knew, the very early light of just dawn was shining through her curtains, and there was a smirking Dragon Prince leaning against the room across from her.
"So, shall we be introduced properly? You'd rather unsettlingly ignored me a week ago when you first arrived, it wasn't something I'd experienced before." The Prince's tone was joking, but there was almost a... pain to his voice.
Lyanna heard it all, and felt an instinct to comfort. However, Lyanna Stark was the She-Wolf of the North, and the walls to her heart would not be broken by a smirking Prince. So, she shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you were a ghost, then and last night."
The prince made a sound of amusement, "And I thought you a little rat, sickly and rarely seen around here, until I saw you in the Throne Room dancing with my grandfather atop the throne with too much grace to be anything but an Angel."
The compliment made Lyanna's brain stutter, and she felt a blush grow across her neck and cheeks. She had no way at all to cover it, no skills in receiving genuine compliments - and compliments not on her looks or her skills, but on just her being. Her gracefulness was not something ever pointed out unless she was on horseback, and she couldn't fully explain to herself why but it was the nicest compliment she'd ever been given. "Th-thank you, your highness."
That day, they spoke of many things, simply as acquaintances slowly becoming friends, until the palace truly began to stir and Lyanna began to yawn again. Dragon Prince kissed her knuckles before he departed through a secret exitway, and her hand stayed tingling long after she fell back to sleep.
The next day, after another night of dancing with Dragon Prince- or Rhaegar, as she kept having to remind herself, though he stressed at having no preference - Lyanna found herself being greeted by Rob and his exotic bird feathers, in front of Rhaegar. Rhaegar saw her fake smile, and heard her fake giggle - nearly choking on his wine as he saw how proud Robert Baratheon was to receive such things from his bride-to-be. Curiously, Rhaegar watched as Lyanna handed the feather to her Septa, and read her lips as she whispered the words "burn it". He had to hide his chuckle with his fist, and gained an odd glance from his (estranged) wife.
As silly as it sounded, and as much as he loved Rhaenys, Targaryen first borns were boys. The daughter of House Martell disappointed him in that, though rationally he knew there was no way she could control the gender of a child. Still, an old prophecy, told to him by a ghost as a child, let him know that his third child would be dark of hair and be the prince that was promised - he would just have to wait for him to arrive.
In the meantime, his eyes were fixated upon the rosy cheeks of Lyanna Stark, and his thoughts were occupied with the intention of hearing her genuine giggles.
As her last night in King's Landing ticked away, Lyanna knew she should go down to the Throne Room and enjoy her last night with the ghosts of King's Landing.
Instead, she was curled up in the arms of Prince Rhaegar.
"I don't want to leave," Lyanna mumbles against his neck, refusing to look at his eyes. "Never want to leave."
Lyanna wasn't entirely sure what happened. A week ago they were acquaintances, a day later they were friends, a few days later it was like they'd known each other all their lives and now they could be described as lovers!
Her, Lyanna Stark, She-Wolf of Winterfell, the Wolf Maiden with a heart of ice, had had her heart melted by the fire of Rhaegar Targaryen, the Dragon Prince.
Rhaegar sighed at her words, and nuzzled her soft hair while clutching her tighter, wishing for more time alone with this woman. "As much as I don't want you to, you'll have to leave this bed, live your life, marry the Baratheon boy, have lots of black haired children and fake your smiles for him every day by thinking of me!" His words made Lyanna chuckled quietly. "Meanwhile, I'll make sure no one ever uses this room again, and I'll allow myself to enter on this day every year, and relive our short time together."
"And be my king," Lyanna finished for him, lifting her head to look at his otherworldly eyes.
"And be your king," Rhaegar echoed, gazing down at her.
Lyanna ran a hand up his chest, across his neck to then rest it against his cheek. "I really stole the heart of a dragon?"
Rhaegar nodded. "And I the heart of a wolf, yes?" He gave his usual smirk for when he knew he was correct.
However, Lyanna shook her head. "I can only give my heart to one man, and I do not yet know him."
Rhaegar's brows furrowed down, and he flipped them so Lyanna was pinned beneath him. "How will I know this man so that I might claim you from him?" Gently, he cradled her face between his palm, and nuzzled at her neck.
"He..." Lyanna struggled to get her words out. "He will win the Tournament that celebrates my engagement to Robert Baratheon, and present me with the gift I find the most favourable." Lyanna reached up to grab a fist of Rhaegar's hair, and made him look her in the eye before she flipped them back and pinned him down by straddling his waist. "And, he has hair like that of a ghost."
Both Lyanna and Rhaegar smirked at that, and ended up missing a lot of the leaving party which had been set for Lyanna by the ghosts of King's Landing.
It was a week before they saw each other again, and that was with Rhaegar preparing to perform a song for the crowd, within which Lyanna was apart of.
Rhaegar, alone with only his harp, once the crowd settled, began to sing a slow and gentle melody. It told of pain, suffering, separation, death, life and love all in one. Not much sound from the harp was needed, for the lyrics made its own music when sung through Rhaegar, whose voice travelled directly into the hearts of all those that could hear him. Once within the heart, it worked its magic and made nearly everyone cry.
Only the She-Wolf of Winterfell and her brother remained dry eyed by the second verse. Ned Stark lamented during that verse, while his sister stayed true to her character. But then, Lyanna heard her own words of, "Never wanted to leave," being projected out at her just one too many times, and she felt two tears slide slowly down her cheeks before she could think to stop them. The walls around her heart shattered down to the ground, disappearing as if they had never been there to begin with. Over a decade of work, gone. Her heart was wide open for anyone to claim.
And in that moment, Rhaegar briefly met her eyes as the last syllables faded away, and she began to mightily pray that Rhaegar won this Tournament. For her heart now belonged only to the Dragon Prince.
Once the Tournament was won by, of course, Prince Rhaegar, everyone cheered and applauded their Prince. He would indeed make a good king, as the Tournament had not only shown his bravery, but also highlighted his intelligence and wit.
However, when he placed the crown of winter roses, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty, upon Lyanna Stark's lap, only silence could be heard for five long heartbeats.
And then Aerys the Mad burst up, chuckling on and on about naming Jaime Lannister a member of the Kingsguard, and the actions were forgotten by all.
By all except, those who cannot forget and those that do not forget.