Prologue

Cold

Cold.

It was what she missed the most about the South. The Riverlands saw a summer breeze that you could never feel up here, not even during the hottest of days. Now winter was at the doorstep, and Skagos fell colder than she could have imagined. It wasn't her family, her friends or her faith that she missed the most. Just the warmth.

It was colder still, with Byron sweating and bleeding in the South. Things were always warmer with his smile around. Not that he had much reason to smile, the last few years. Jorran was dead now, slain by his own brother, Byron. He'd been mad as Aerys himself, and now he and the rest of their House were dying for a new king, and all she could do was sit at home and worry.

They said the Riverlands had seen the most fighting of the war, that they had been ruined. She'd cried when she had heard the news, that her home was becoming a battlefront, with roads and houses torn apart by the fighting. Not that her father had done anything to help. 'The Late' Walder Frey they were calling him, as he'd intentionally arrived late to the battle, when he could have helped them. Byron and his soldiers had fought the Targaryens to the gates of the Seventh Hell, and the Frey soldiers just watched to help the victor at the last minute.

How she came from them, she'd never know. She was a Northerner now, and she was glad to have nothing to do with the Twins or it's inhabitants.

"We can make the world a better place."

That's what Byron had told her. She was just a girl then, visiting the North with her family, when she'd met him. When she asked how he dealt with how awful things seemed living in the North, that's what he's told her.

"We're alone under this sun. People sometimes have an awful way of dealing with their fear at knowing how alone we are. But when people are scared and dealing with it in bad ways, that doesn't make them bad people. That makes them people who need help."

That was what had convinced her she didn't belong in the South. She had gone home, to Riverrun, and had sat at a feast, and all she could think of was the people they could help with the absurd amount of food they were consuming.

A loud metallic grinding noise snapped her from her thoughts, and she looked out the windows to see their House returning, with Byron at the head of them. Their forces were much smaller than when they had left, and it left a sharp pang in her heart to know so many wouldn't be coming home again. Still, they had come home at all, which was a miracle in and of itself.

Moments later she found herself at the gate and, upon seeing her, Byron's expression softened, and he took her into his arms. "Gods be praised." He smiled as they embraced. "How I missed you." There was a weariness about him, and she knew already that terrible things had happened in the South. Last she had heard, he was headed with Ned Stark to take the Capital, and nothing more, though information travelled slowly out to Skagos. "How are the children?"

"They have their health." She promised, not wanting to let go of him. "Lena's as stubborn as ever, and the twins don't like being separated from each other's company for a moment." He chuckled. "What about you? Something's wrong."

He sighed, and released her from his embrace, even though she didn't want to be. "The Lannisters..." He shook his head. "Took the Capital to prove their loyalty to Robert. They… the things we saw..." His voice broke, and she began to embrace him again.

"It's okay." Lyla promised him. "You're home now."

He smiled. "It's cold, damp and lonely, but the North is the place I'm supposed to be. Let the Southerners keep their flowers and sun. I have home."