Jon was straightening Bran's arm as he helped his younger brother pull the string. The younger Stark's breath went in as he fingered the string, his hand was visibly shaking and Lyarra was certain it was not due to the chill air. The elder sister looked on as her brother released the string, watching the honed arrow fall pathetically only meters in front of the Stark boy. Jon and Robb laughed, not cruelly but not kindly, at their younger brother's fault. Even young Rickon, his auburn curled hair bouncing as the toddler laughed at Bran's inability. "Which of you were marksmen by seven?" Their father called from the balcony of the keep. All five of their eyes shot up, four Tully eyes and one dark eyes of the Starks. Lyarra bore the Tully eyes and as the firstborn child of Catelyn and Eddard Stark but she expressed the Stark hair. Her hair was pure brown with wide curls, which Robb, Rickon, Bran, and Sansa has their mother's auburn locks. Other than the colour of hair she was identical to Robb, her slightly younger brother. And other than eyes she was also identical to their bastard brother Jon.
"Go again Bran, father is watching. And your mother as well," The bastard commented as Lyarra's mother made her way to lean on the wood to watch their son in his archery training. Jon's dark eyes shifted to her mother, whom Lyarra knew that Jon was wary of. She was not blind, she had seen the way her mother disregarded him. Her mother did not intend to be cruel, Lyarra was certain of that, her mother was anything but malicious. In spite of this she had never seen her mother compliment Jon, or call him anything other than 'the bastard'. She also knew that her sister, Sansa, gained similar views towards their half-brother. Arya, Robb, Bran, and her never spoke such words to their half-brother, that was what they called him and Arya only called him their brother, fire in her words if you dared correct her on that. Bran pulled the string again, his river eyes staring down the arrow point to the target. Lyarra looked down at the blunted blade in her hand, the sparing sword that her mother eyed from across the court with obvious disapproval. This time before Bran had a chance to let his arrow fly another over took it, landing a perfect bull's-eye. All of them, including their parents, looked around. They saw Arya, the small wisp of a girl under the keep with a bow in hand. All the siblings laughed as Bran took off after Arya, mad she took away his chance to impress their parents.
"She is good," Robb commented as he took his place next to his elder sister, his smile narrow as his eyes locked on Lyarra's. She looked back her brother with a knowing look. She knew he was implying that Arya, who was younger than she was when she was even allowed to touch a bow, was going to overtake her in skill. If their mother had any comment on it, however, neither of them would ever carry a non-blunted sword.
"Come, little brother, pick up a blade," She spoke to him, grabbing the hilt of hers and going to stand. Robb pulled a face as she called him that. She was hardly older, only five and ten while he was to be four and ten very soon. There was a large difference between their births, she was born in the midst of a rebellion, their mother forced to marry their father with little more than days of truly knowing each other. She had been betrothed to Brandon Stark, the elder brother of their father. She had been promised to him for almost five years before he perished in the South. She rarely spoke about it but Lyarra could not imagine the pain of such an incident in her mother's heart. Robb grabbed a sparing blade, the parents had turned away, interrupted by a Rodrik, the master-in-arms. Robb lowered into an aggressive stance and his sister did the same. They have been sparing together ever since their father gave Rodrik permission to teach Lyarra the skills her brother had years of a head start on. Robb was better, better at sword skills and stronger in strength but his sister was trailing close behind.
Their blades snapped together as Robb, impatient as ever, made the first move swinging his sword to the left of his elder sibling who blocked it swiftly. Robb gave a glaring smirk as she made a forward lunge and his blade cut her off, pushing forcefully upwards nearly disarming her in the second move. She gave a small chuckle as she regained her grip on the leather. There was something that put Lyarra in a different league than her brother in skills. She fought with the blade resting on her left palm, not her right. She fought with a different stance to match her grip, which challenged Robb to fight people who did not favour their right as most did. Rodrik tried to convince her this was simply impossible but she assured him that fighting with her right would get her killed, and after weeks of the master-in-arms insistence that she did not, she spared with her right she dropped the blade again and again. Finally, Rodrik conceded, allowing her to hold it in her left. Robb made a broad sweep above her head and she ducked quickly before sweeping his legs out from under him. He recovered in seconds, blocking her next blow before pulling her over his head. She landed in a heap behind him as he jumped up agilely. Robb said her name as he looked down at her, his blue eyes concerned as she groaned and rolled up to her feet, her brother grabbing her hand and pulling her up next to him. She grunted that she was all right as she stood, brushing the dust off.
"Robb, Jon. Bring your younger brother, your father calls for you three at the stables," Robb looked back at Lyarra who glared at the master-in-arms. Their mother and father were no longer in view, only the white wispy hair of the old knight as he looked down at us. He gave a suspicious look to the eldest Stark daughter before walking away. Arya and Rickon had been taken back upstairs and Lyarra started after her brother's as they walked towards where the horses were kept. "You were not called for Lyarra," Rodrik commented when she arrived at the stables meters behind her three brothers. The old knight was constantly excluding her from things, almost like he forgot Cat and Ned Stark even had an elder daughter. Their father appeared from the keep of Winterfell, ruffling Bran's hair as he walked by.
"Where are we going, father?" Bran questioned, his little boy curiosity getting the best of him. He had the curiosity of a summer cat, his mind running circles around every story Old Nan told him. She told him of the long night, the white walkers, and the children of the forests and he ate it up like a hungry cat, eager for every morsel of information she would grant him. She was much more reserved, constantly being reminded that she was a lady not a lord, such stories were too gruesome and scary for such a lady. She hated that and she sometimes hated her mother for agreeing with those ideas.
"A deserter from the Night's Watch. It is time you see such things, Bran," Their father commented, his voice calm but Lyarra knew what they did to the deserters. Cut their heads from their bodies, ending their watch. She wanted to see that as well, she wanted to know what a leader did to deserters. His grey stark eyes landed on his elder daughter and the hardness that lurked behind his gaze dropped. She saw it in him, the darkness that the north instilled in her father, she was not sure if it was due to the rebellion he fought in, the iron-born he had to kill or the death of his family during such events. He rarely spoke about his family, even less so that her mother did. He spoke about his mother, her namesake that much he could bear. But he never dared speak about Brandon, Lyanna, and their father.
"Go on Lyarra, go to your mother and Sansa," Rodrik commanded but she did not look at him, she did not break her sight from her father. He turned away from her, disappearing into the stables as Bran's pony and Robb destrier were brought out for them. Jon and Theon had hold of their horses already the cruel smile Theon gave her spoke swords about what he thought. He liked that she got excluded, that she could do less than he could. The iron-born was careless and quick with his tongue; he spoke barbarous things to her when he believed her brother could not hear. Had Robb, or Jon for that matter, ever heard some of the hideous things that ward spoke to her they would cut him down and yet he did it and she said nothing. He desired her just he did every woman above four and ten. Every whore in Winterfell knew the heir to the Pyke's name and his cock. The golden Kraken was embezzled on his chest as he got on his horse winking at her as he did. She glared at Theon about to turn away when her father appeared out of the stables again, her sorrel mare in his hand. The look of the boys almost gave her more satisfaction than the words her father spoke when he passed her the reins.
"Come with us, Ly" She widened her eyes and looked at the complete shock on the master-at-arms' face as her father help her on the horse. His large hands around her legs as he boasted her onto the saddle. This time it was her who gave a smirk to Theon, her grey stark eyes blazing with pride as her father granted his approval. Jon's face was kind as he gave her an encouraging nod and Robb only smiled. The iron-born's face constricted in the loss as he pulled his horse around and moved away from the Stark siblings.
"But, my lord, this is no event for a lady to see," Ser Rodrik protested as he struggled to get onto his large stallion who snorted and pawed at the ground as the knight mounted. Edward Stark, however, was not listening. Her father was getting on his mount and ordering the men forward, the grey dire on a white field flying high above his head as they kicked their horses forward. Lyarra turned behind her only to see the disappointed face on her younger sister. Arya was watching from the keep, her grey gaze unhappy as she watched her younger sister ride away. She wishes she were me, Lyarra knew. Her youngest sister was as wild as she was, the wolves' blood through their veins. They wanted to fight with the men, ride horses across mountain ranges and see the deserts of Dorne and the wall. They both were born to the wrong bodies, they both needed to be men. Sansa was different, the only true lady of the Stark children. She liked needlework, her stitching perfect. Lyarra could pretend, her stitches mostly straight and her manners true but Arya had neither.
Robb was up talking to Theon, their laughter, well mostly the iron-born's laughter, could be heard by Lyarra paces behind them. Bran was riding on his pony who struggled to keep up with their father's mount, listening intently as their father spoke to him. Jon looked at him, only to circle back and join her in the silence. He was a lot like her, quiet and thinking but she saw the way he viewed Robb. He viewed him with jealousy. He loved their brother, that much she was sure, but he wanted to be him. She used to want to be Robb, certainly when Robb used to be the center of father's attention but when her father allowed her to listen to his teachings and the boy's lessons with the master she stopped feeling jealous. They continued on after their father and his men to see a man's beheading. When Jon and Lyarra approached the holdfast they could see the man bound hand and feet to the wall, the cold breeze making a shiver go through her as she watched the men cut him down, preparing him for their lord. She watched with her Tully eyes that matched her brother beside her, as she had joined with Robb on her right and Theon further down. The man did not seem threatening he barely seemed alive. His body was scrawny and he looked barely older than her. His ears were frozen off and black from the bite. Lyarra watched as her father dismounted, his face quiet. The three siblings stayed far behind their father as the man was lowered to the block.
Her father strode forward taking off his gloves and handing it to Jory who stood waiting for his Lord. Theon walked forward Ice in hand and handed the great-sword to her father. Lyarra watched with a waiting breath as her father took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head. Lyarra barely heard Jon whisper to Bran, commanding him to not look away as their father brought his arms down with a swing. Lyarra did not watch the blood spill out into the snow, coating it in crimson, instead, she watched the head roll away to the feet of Greyjoy. The iron-born only laughed kicked it with the toe of his boot.
"Ass," Lyarra hissed lowly and Jon only looked at her knowingly as he congratulated Bran on his first view of the justice. She watched on as one of the men lifted the head as the body got carried away and she saw the purple skin on the face of the dead man. His eyes were slightly reddened and the peeling skin from beyond the wall. The crimson puddle was kicked away by Jory as he handed her father's gloves back and they began mounting up.
"Lyarra, ride with me," Her father called to her and she nodded staying silent as Theon made her way to her, offering his hands low to boost her onto her horse. His height gave him an advantage he lifted her onto the mare. His dark iron-born eyes locked on hers as his hand remained on her thigh far longer than necessary. He squeezed her leg with a wink as she tried to kick him in the shoulder but he moved away before she could, giving her a low smile. She pulled away from him, as he mounted behind her, letting her mare walk over to her father's horse as the men all began the ride back to Winterfell. "Your mother will not be happy that I let you come," Her father admitted just over the wind and she agreed with him. Her mother rarely approved of her doing anything that was not strictly lady-like. Lyarra looked over at her father, his dark hair that matched hers blew in the wind and he pulled his coat around himself tighter as the cold wind whistled around them. The Stark daughter could see her brother's joking around in front of them, Theon looking down at Bran on his pony. "Do you understand why I do this, why I personally have to deal the justice?" He asked her and she already knew the answer. Maester Luwin had told her when she asked about the King's executer Illyn Payne. The maester was the only one who let her do as she pleased, asking questions about everything as long as he had the answer, which he regularly did. She asked about every house, the one that interested her the most was House Mormont of Bear Island and the reason was their Lord or lack of lord. Lady Maege Mormont was the only head of a house that she had been able to find. She wished she could meet the lady, Lyarra would go to her and bid that taught how to command a house as a lady.
"The one who deals the sentence shall swing the sword," She vaguely quoted but she was not quite sure she had gotten the term correct. Her father's look of pride was enough to convince her she was right. She liked pleasing her father, she knew she was his first-born and therefore the one closest to his heart even though she was born months before he ever returned home to Winterfell. She had been raised for those months during Robert's rebellion in Riverrun, the family of her mother surrounding her. She also heard whispers that she looked much like the dead sister of her father, Lyanna Stark. She had the same face and hair just with different eyes. Her aunt was regarded as the most beautiful woman in the North and Lyarra had yet to know if she followed in the same path.
"Very good. Maester Luwin has taught you well," Her father commented and she smiled in response. Theon was galloping back to them yelling that they should come quick and see what Robb found. Her father looked at her before kicking his horse forward to meet the boys who were just over the ridge. She followed slower Theon waiting for her, much to her annoyance.
"Were you scared of the execution?" He asked with a sneer and she only hissed back.
"No, I wish it were your head instead Greyjoy," He smirked back, knowing he was getting on her nerves. Their horses continued on nearing the group but before they were within earshot he had to leave her with another comment.
"If I were dying would you let me into that sweet cunt of yours?" He spoke with a sneer and she scowled spitting into the snow below them and pulling away from the crude iron-born. She saw her father kneeling, pulling a bloodied stags horn out of the body of an enormous wolf. She had never seen anything the size of it, it's body large than Bran's pony. Its fur was bloodied but underneath the blood was a thick grey coat. Her father announced it was a direwolf but they were extinct south of the wall for centuries now. They were huge beasts according to Great Nan, driven north by the arrival of the Andals. They were rumored to be magical beasts that grew to the size of horses. As her father pulled the horn out and moved slightly to the side, only then did Lyarra see the small pups nestled under the dead wolf. They were tiny and she could count six small grey pups. Bran excitedly picked up one, petting its small head as he nuzzled into him.
"Can we keep them, father?" Bran asked softy holding the pup close in his arms. Lyarra knew they would die without their mother. Bran's blue eyes met his father but it was Jory who responded to her brother's curious question.
"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," muttered Hullen, the master-of-horse. "I like it not."
"It is a sign," Jory said.
Father frowned. "This is only a dead animal, Jory," he said. Yet he still frowned.
"No matter, they will soon all be dead soon," Hullen spoke roughly and Lyarra watched on as Greyjoy moved from beside her, unsheathing his knife.
"Better now than later," He announced going to grab the pup from Bran who was gripping it tightly, river eyes wide with fear as the ward tried to grab the wolf from him.
"No!" Bran called to the iron-born as he held tightly onto the pup. "It is mine!" Her younger brother's dismay made her call out before anyone else did.
"Put your knife away Greyjoy. Afraid of a little pup?" She growled at him and the dark eyes snapped back to look at him.
"My lady, he will only do it a mercy," Jory spoke lowly thinking it was because she was a woman that she did not want them to kill the wolf. "They are vicious creatures and will eat you alive when full grown," He warned but Lyarra only glared at him.
"I am not afraid of no wolf," She spoke back both her and Bran looking to their father for what to do.
They only got a frown and a furrowed brow. "Hullen speaks truly, Daughter. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation."
"No!" Bran called again as Greyjoy went to grab the wolf. I grabbed his arm this time, the one armed with the knife. The iron-born practically growled at me to get away but I held on, my hand tight on the nerve of his arm.
"Lord Stark," Jon said. Lyarra did not like him calling him that like he was any less his father as he was theirs. "There are six pups," he told his father. "Three male, three female."
"What of it, Jon?"
"You have six true-born children," Jon said. "Three sons, three daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord." This time Theon pulled his arm out of her tight grip scowling at her. Lyarra did not miss that he omitted himself from that count, disregarding his half Stark blood, and she did not like that.
"What about you Jon?" She questioned softly and he only shook his head with a sad smile.
"I am no true Stark," He reminded them all as their father exchanged glances with his men. Lyarra knew that the children had one before the lord even spoke.
"I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?" Their father spoke roughly and they all nodded rapidly.
"I swear father we will do it all for them, milk them, wash them, everything," Robb promised their father and finally Edward Stark gave a final nod and Bran squealed with delight. Jon and Robb picked up the remaining pups, Robb passing her the largest female with light dusting grey fur. The female pup licked her coat and she held it close as she walked back with the men to remount their horses.
Halfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly.
"What is it, Jon?" their lord father asked.
"Can't you hear it?" But Lyarra heard nothing until she did. The ever soft whimpering of small animal was heard from the woods. "There," Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them, smiling. In his arms was a pure white pup and even his sister could see the blood-red eyes poking out from her half-brother's arms.
"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."
Jon Snow gave his father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me." Lyarra smiled widely as her brother spurred his horse on pass the iron-born. The girl cradled the wolf in her right arm, riding forward with her more dominant hand to catch up with the men but it was Theon who rode beside her.
"You touch me like that again and you will feel my anger," He spat across to her, the pups he was carrying were given to Jory and Hullen to take back to the other siblings. His eyes were hard like the rock fortress he was raised in but Lyarra's gaze was ahead passed the young man. She did not care what he said for she had her wolf and she would raise it right. It would rip him apart if he dared harm her.
"Storm to me," Lyarra commanded and her wolf obeyed. She was much larger now, almost up to the Stark daughter's knee after only a moon. When the she-wolf's eyes opened days after they found it, Lyarra learned to much dismay that she was blind in one eye, one a milky one and the other like the blue eyes of death. She had seen the other wolves; Grey Wind was Robb's. He had a moderate grey colored fur and golden eyes. The eyes matched Nymeria and Lady, Arya and Sansa's wolves respectfully. All three were fairly similar looking. Young Rickon's wolf was a pitch black with moss green eyes. The children's mother was less than impressed with her daughter going to watch a beheading, less so with all her children returning with direwolves to raise. Ghost, Jon Snow's, was a pure white with his striking red eyes. The name was fitting as unlike Snow Storm, her wolf, she had never heard Snow's wolf make a noise. Bran had yet to name his grey, golden-eyed wolf and seemed unable to choose a name. "Sit," She commanded and the wolf lowered itself to the dirt of the training ground.
"Lyarra! Put the wolf away and get changed, the King is coming!" Sansa exclaimed from above her. That was all Winterfell could talk about for the past moon. But Lyarra was less excited than her younger siblings for she had seen her father deep in thought in the godswood late into northern nights. When she questioned him of his despair he admitted that the king was coming there to appoint him as Hand of the King. It was a prestigious role and she knew Eddard was replacing his dear friend Jon Arryn, of whom her aunt on her maternal side Lysa was married to.
She had asked her father varying questions about what he would do. You can refuse, right? She asked vainly only to know the answer. But her father belonged here, he was a northerner through and through. and yet he would go. Just like he heeded the call of King Robert nine years ago when the iron-born rose up he would obey his king another time. He also told her that he was taking her sisters south and she nearly cried. What about me, Father? She cried in dismay and he shook his head with a deep sadness. Your mother needs you here, I need you here. He admitted to her.
And so he got her ready for his departure. He told her who he was bringing with him, who she should appoint to lead in the positions that would be left behind. She was surprised that he did not tell Robb such things as he was to be Lord Stark after him and yet he was telling her. She listened to him as her brothers trained in the training ground, as Arya taught Nymeria to carry things, Lyarra was listening to her father.
She broke from her thoughts as she closed the gates of the godswood on the seven wolves as she reentered the tower and to her chambers. Her handmaidens helped her dress in a beautiful silk green dress. They brushed her hair through and clipped her jewelry on for her. She looked at her reflection. I am a Stark of Winterfell, the wolves of the North. She thought to herself as she headed out of her room and down to the courtyard.
She stood beside her mother and Robb as the visitors poured in the gates. Hundreds of them she would guess but it might have seemed more to her. They were all covered in gold and silver, their beautiful horses coated in similar riches. She recognized the first rider, his hair like beaten gold as he wore golden armor fitted with golden lions and the white cloak of the Kingsguard. Everyone knew him. Jaime Lannister was more infamous than famous, however. Youngest boy to ever be knighted to the Kingsguard at six and ten yet they whispered 'Kingslayer' behind his back. For Jaime Lannister, son to Lord of Casterly Rock and brother to the Queen had stuck a sword into the back of King Aerys the Mad. She did not blame him for slaying the Mad King but alas he was sworn to protect him, not kill him. Kingsguard that outlived their Kings were not rewards, Kingsguards that killed their King were even worse. Lyarra saw behind him the crowned prince, similar long golden hair, and a large build. Prince Joffrey was truly a Lannister and a very little a Baratheon. Lyarra did not have to look over to be able to see Sansa's look of adoration. She was not jealous of her sister as Lyarra did not want to marry the prince but her younger sister seemed delighted at the idea.
"I hope your trip was kind, your grace," Her father spoke and only then did she see her family bowing and she quickly followed. When she rose she saw the large man that was apparently the King. She had never met King Robert Baratheon, his black hair was course and a thick beard covered his jaw. Pleasantries were exchanged between the two men and Lyarra knew how much history was between the two. They were raised together at the Eyrie, however, one was born into Lordship and the other arrived at it. Then the King greeted her mother, kissing Catelyn lightly on the cheek. Lyarra watched as the Queen made her way over, her striking green eyes and long blonde hair matched her twin brother. She was stunning but her eyes were hard. Suddenly the King was in front of the Stark daughter and she managed to greet him respectfully asking how his journey was, only his eyes were no longer on her but over to her father. Lyarra was confused, she believes she had done something wrong. She looked over at her father who had a pained expression on his face.
"Is something wrong, your grace?" She asked quietly looking up at the large man and the King shook his head, clearly gathering his wit. She could see the Queen was even glaring at her and she shivered in her stance. House Reyne had proved how dangerous it was to anger the Lannisters.
"Not a thing, my dear," The King spoke forcing a smile on as he held his hand out. Lyarra put hers in his and he kissed the back of her hand. He was introduced to all the children ending with young Rickon. Then he spoke asking to see the crypt and Lyarra knew what he was referencing. The crypt in Winterfell was dark and cold but it held the bones, swords, and statues of the lords of Winterfell and the Kings of the North. She had been down there with her brother's and sisters, scaring young timid Sansa with ghost noises and clattering metal only to have Jon jump out with flour on his face. She knew that Lyanna Stark's likeness was down there as well. The beautiful and mysterious aunt that seemed to hold something above the family. The Stark girl knew that Robert Baratheon, the King, had been promised her before Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen stole her from under him. This all leading to the events that killed her grandfather and uncle.
"The dead can wait we have been riding since dawn," The Queen protested and anger rose in Lyarra. She did not miss the look the king gave his wife before her twin ushered her away. She saw Sansa sharing timid words with Prince Joffrey with a bashful blush spreading across her face. Instead, Lyarra turned to her mother with a curious look. The Tully was staring after her husband who disappeared behind the heavy milled around, the Queen and her children, as well as the Starks, invited back into halls to get warm.
"Mother, are you alright?" Her eldest daughter asked her but Catelyn's thoughts were elsewhere. Her mother swallowed before nodding and gesturing for them both to go inside.
Lyarra was watching the events of the feast, the royal family sitting above them, on what was her families table. The King was drunk, feeling up a servant girl who was pouring his drink. Lyanna took a sip of wine as she watched the interaction, the Queen's jaw tight as she watched her husband. The prince had invited Sansa up to speak with him and Lyarra could see her younger sister's red blush even from her seat meters away. Just then their two heads turned to her, green and blue eyes met her and Lyarra looked as the prince waved her over. She felt the wary gaze of Robb as she walked over. He did not seem to like the prince and his elder sister was looking to find the reason why.
"You called me, Prince Joffrey?" Lyarra spoke respectful bowing her head graceful before looking up to meet the striking Lannister eyes. She held back a shiver as the Prince looked at her with his quiet gaze. Sansa next to her shifted uncomfortably and her sister knew that she wished Joffrey looked at her like that. She saw the Queen in the corner of her gaze, looking disapprovingly at her but she was not sure if it was her or the prince.
"Lady Sansa informs me that you are not traveling South with us. We would have loved your company, Lady Lyarra," Joffrey spoke smoothly but she felt the implication of his words as his eyes glanced lowly at her breasts. She pained to put on a smile but she remembered her manners, this was the crowned prince.
"I apologize, my prince. My father bids me stay here and help organize in his leaving. I would have enjoyed seeing the capital," She spoke calmly and the prince smiled but it was not kind and yet she practically could feel Sansa's adoring eyes.
"Perhaps you could come visit then, I would enjoy making you happy," He bite his lip subtly and Lyarra clenched her fist but only smiled in response. He was younger than her, only three and ten, yet his advances were grossly unhidden. Sansa glared at the back of her head, her auburn hair cascading down her body. Do not worry sister I will not be stealing this foul Prince, Lyarra thought to herself. But the prince had not finished and was now complementing her dress and hair and the eldest daughter only politely thanked him.
"Ned's daughter!" Both Sansa and Lyarra turned away from the prince as his father interrupted him. The King was reclined in his seat, the Queen gone. His Baratheon blue eyes trained on them but each was not sure which daughter he was asking for. "You, the dark haired one!" He drunkenly called and Lyarra looked at her sister and shrugged but walked over to the King anyway. She did not miss the utter look of anger on Joffrey's face or Sansa's look of relief that her elder sister was away from her prince.
"Your grace," Lyarra greet bowing slightly and the King slammed his cup on the table roughly but the girl did not react, used to the drunken discourse of men. Unlike the King, her father never drank like that but some of his bannermen and sworn lords did and she was never surprised by what they did anymore. "I apologize earlier if I upset you, your grace. I am unsure what I did wrong but you and my father looked disappointed," The girl spoke so calmly even Robert was impressed with her formality, yet he laughed loudly.
"You did not upset me, Lyarra is it?" He asked and the eldest child of Ned nodded. He blenched loudly and Lyarra waited calmly as the King regained his line of thought. "In fact quite the opposite. You are the spitting image of your late aunt, did you know that?" Suddenly the King sobered up slightly and Lyarra could only nod as the King touch her hand that was resting on the table. "Lyanna was my one true love and she was taken from me!" He exclaimed hitting the table and Jaime Lannister, positioned behind the King took a step forward at the raised voice. Lyarra was certain it was not to protect her, not that she was afraid of the king.
"I am deeply sorry, your grace," The girl apologized on behalf of someone who she did not even know, for the death of a lady she supposedly looked like. She looked up at the Kingsguard's emerald gaze as he looked down at her, his jaw was tight but he did not look angry at her. "I heard my aunt was the most beautiful woman in the North. It is a great compliment to be compared to such a lady," Even the Lannister was impressed with the amount of composure and grace she spoke with.
"It is. Such beauty is rare to find, be careful Lady Lyarra," The King spoke before bidding her leave and she took it disappearing down back to the long table she was at before. She was lost in the sounds of the feast, laughing, shouting and dancing if drunk men and women. Suddenly her thoughts were brought back as someone sat next to her, Theon looked back at her as he sat uncomfortably close to her She tried to ignore him, watching some girl struggle away from a high lord and she was disgusted by the ordeal.
"Did you enjoy getting serenaded by the prince and king?" Theon growled in her ear as he leaned towards her, his large hand on her thigh. She took a deep breath, her patience thin with her father's ward who seemed to get bolder with every encounter. She instead picked her to drink back up, sipping at the sweet task of summer wine.
"Where's Robb?" She asked him roughly, looking around the hall instead of giving the iron-born the satisfaction. She ignored the hand on her thigh but when it began to rise she grabbed his wrist tightly with her empty hand, pinning his hand down.
"You would let the King under your dress but I am not good enough?" Theon growled lowly cruelly but Lyarra was not having any of his bullshit tonight.
"I'm not letting anyone touch me, least of all you Greyjoy," She hissed back and snapped back his hand so that his elbow was in a painful position. Theon hissed in pain but kept his composure as the eldest Stark, for whom he had known since she was six, began to threaten to push his elbow out of its socket. "Where is Robb?" She growled again demanding an answer.
Theon practically whimpered as he spat out, "He took the children to bed." He hissed as Lyarra released his wrist, the pressure immediately gone. The Greyjoy tenderly pulled his wrist back and rubbed at the reddened skin. The girl contemplated what she wanted to do before she rose gracefully and headed down towards the kitchen. She knew where to find him. She knew her mother did not allow him to enter the hall with their family. She found him, sitting away from the kitchen staff, his ghost beneath him. He must have taken him out after she put them all away, she shook my head with a smile as she made her way over.
"He should be in the godswood, Jon," She commented and the bastard only gave her a cheeky smile. He was feeding the dire under the table, the kitchen servants practically shaking at the view of the creature. "And you should be at the feast," She commented quieter, sitting beside him on the low bench. He looks at her with his grey Stark eyes that held nearly as much hardness as their fathers did. She wondered how he had gained all the Stark attributes when she had not. She wondered, like so many other people did, who his mother was. Who was the mother of Jon Snow that managed to tempt the ever noble Ned Stark? She knew how her mother saw Jon, how it wasn't the sex that bothered her but the boy Ned brought back from the war. Jon represented his mother to Catelyn, and that was the crime that inexcusable. My honorable father had dared to bring the bastard home with him. That confusion was both something her and her mother shared on the topic.
"I thought it was best. I wouldn't want to offend your mother or the royal family," He repeated to her, pushing meat under the table for Ghost who gobbled it up thankfully. Lyarra knew that was a lie, it was a lie fed by her mother and for that she was angry. She had seen the way her half-brother looked at anything that the Stark family owned. Ice, the family table, the banners, all these things that he would never have. At least she was a full Stark even if she was a girl.
"No my mother was the one who did not want you there," She repeated and he met her eyes before looking away. She knew him well enough to see the agreement with her statement. "You are leaving, for the wall. Father told me yesterday," Jon's face flickered sadness as he nodded. She knew none of the other siblings knew yet. She knew of the wall and who resided there. The Night's Watch was highly regarded throughout the North but Lyarra knew it would not be as glamorous as they pretended it was. "Stay Jon, stay please," She begged him grabbing her brother's hand. His hand was warm from the kitchen heat as she cupped it between hers. Jon watched her Tully eyes begin to glisten with tears. His elder sister rarely cried and yet she was. He could not, he knew he could not. His choice was made and aided by her mother's disagreement to let him stay. He was not a Stark, his place was not beside them. He only watched her as she pulled away her hands realizing he was not going to respond. They were interrupted by one of the kitchen boys, Rye, who hunted the livestock for the women in the kitchen.
"Lyarra what brings you to the poor man's section of the feast?" Rye spoke with a mischievous smile and the Stark daughter pulled her eyes away from the bastard's solemn eyes. He looked more like their father now than ever.
"Perhaps you are better company than the King's family," She spoke back quickly giving him a well-timed smirk and the young man only laughed sitting down next to her. He was slightly older than her, the wisp of a light beard ghosted his chin as he smiled. He was nothing like the Starks or Tullys and that's why she liked him. He had short cropped blond hair that was like light sand, or so Lyarra thought sand would look like. His eyes were light, barely even blue but light grey. He was an orphan when he was younger, raised by the kitchen servants of Winterfell. His mother had died when he was young and his father some high lord who had raped her. He never held any of that up anymore, he kept it all hidden and Lyarra could understand his distaste for lords. But he did not despise her, far from it. "Do not tell, but the Prince has quite wandering eyes, I saw him eying up my breasts," Lyarra spoke lowly to her brother and the hunter. Jon only rolled his eyes as he drank ale from his cup and the hunter only laughed. His laugh was smooth and creamy like honey and Lyarra liked it, just as she liked other parts of the servant boy.
"Anyone would eye up you Ly, it's hard not to," Rye replied smoothly giving her a once-over with his light blue eyes. He leaned forward her dark blue eyes sparkling as he did.
"No it's just hard for you because you are an animal," She growled playfully and he winked this time. He wrapped his arm around the Stark daughter.
"Yes I'm just a beast," He spoke catching her lips on his as he pulled her closer. She smiled at the man kissing him back before pulling away with a hand on his chest tutting him. His smile was large and all she could think of the last time they were together. She thought of sweating bare skin, soft curves, and toned muscles. She kept her relations quiet from her parents but she had slept with a few of the young men around Winterfell. At first, it was only Theon who knew about it, he had tried to threaten to tell Robb or her parents if she did not sleep with him. She didn't listen to him and he did tell Robb but her brother only laughed. Whom she had sex with was none of her brothers' issues, but she knew they watched out for her.
"Come on, that is my sister," Jon hissed but she could tell he was not serious. Rye backed off but the dark haired girl leaned back into his chest. The back of her head resting on his torn grabs. She did not care who his family was, he was a gentle lover when he chose to be and not one when she wanted it Rough. His arm wrapped gently around her torso as she hummed contently.
"Did you see the Queen? By the gods she is beautiful," The hunter commented and even Jon, who flushed slightly, had to nod and Lyarra just chuckled. His large hand rested on her stomach and Jon looked uncomfortable with the contact. She knew her half-brother had never slept with a girl, Theon had even bought him a whore for his fifteenth name day but she was sure he never did anything. She hadn't slept with a lot of men, not by any standard, but she was certain her mother would not approve, nor her father for that matter. She ensured she did not get pregnant, that would be a catastrophe.
"Her twin is not bad looking either," Lyarra passed the comment, the emerald eyes from behind the king still looking at her in his vision. The Kingslayer was a beautiful man, his looks talked about around Westeros before even his skill. Rye hummed agreement behind her, his fingers pulling through the sections of her hair that were undone. Suddenly someone else entered the room, likely passing through to go to the feast only Jon jumped up.
"Uncle Benjen!" He exclaimed loudly embracing their uncle tightly around the shoulders. Lyarra looked up in shock, thinking he was no longer coming. She pushed quickly off the hunter and stood to meet her uncle. His dark Stark eyes that matched her brother's shifted to her before behind to the man.
"Uncle! I was worried you might not make it," Lyarra spoke and Benjen Stark gave her a soft hug. He looked lovingly at her as they broke apart only noticing then that his young niece was no longer as young as he remembered. She had grown into a beautiful young woman that had the same attributes his elder sister once had. He had last seen her years ago when she was still a girl. Benjen watched as the man that he saw had his arms around his niece ran out of the room.
"And that was?" He asked curiously and it was her turn to get flustered. Lyarra thought of what to say to her uncle. He put her out of her misery, "Just be careful Ly, you look more and more like my sister did. Her looks got her killed," There seemed to be a lot of talk of Aunt Lyanna tonight and she watched the pained expression pass the elder Stark's face as he thought of his older sister.
"I will Uncle Ben," She spoke softly as she excused herself, letting Jon and Benjen speak in the kitchen.
