Lyanna's eyes were dull with hatred. Her face had worn the same steely mask every day of the past fortnight. Steely though as her face may have appeared, it also bore the clear marks of abuse. Her cheeks were doused with an unhealthy amount of purple and yellow bruises; remnants of what had been done to her the first several days after Winterfell was lost to the Ironborn traitors.
While she was forced to sit at her father's table, in the chair that once belonged to her mother, next to a man who she had once seen as almost a brother, Lyanna held back her nausea. The only way she could sit through endless days of people swearing loyalty to this traitor was to go somewhere else, and so go somewhere else she did.
Lyanna was still in Winterfell in her thoughts, but this Winterfell was very different. Her father and mother were happy. She practiced swords not so secretly with her brothers. She sat docilely sewing with Sansa and Septa Mordane while Arya did their best to disrupt them. She almost had a ghost of a smile on her face before Winterfell changed again.
Now it was a more grim place, Father and the younger girls were leaving for Kings Landing. Bran was hurt and hadn't awoke. Rickon the baby was crying constantly for his mother who was losing her mind. Her twin Robb was now the de facto Lord of Winterfell in their father's place. She had sat in this very seat next to Robb as they made plans together. Plans that had led to Robb gathering a host and marching South. Winterfell changed once more.
Now it was the day of the Ironborn invasion. Lyanna could almost cry because she had been so stupid. He had marched right to their gates with that ugly Kracken banner and she had opened them. Welcomed her seudo brother with open arms, and he had seized Winterfell from her. Her two youngest brothers were lost in the fighting only to be returned to Winterfell as charred little bodies, hung from a rope. Fighting to regain control of herself Lyanna shook her head lightly and allowed the scene to change back to present day Winterfell.
She was seated next to Theon Greyjoy, her father's former ward, and her brother's former advisor. He had betrayed them all and run home to his own father and then captured his former home in the name of the Iron Islands. Lyanna almost laughed when these men referred to Theon as "Prince" because her whole life he was a captive who was lucky to be allowed to roam freely. Now here he sat, like a prince, in her father's chair handing down orders and hearing oaths.
There was no question why Lyanna was seated next to him. He had made it clear the moment she was drug before him in the Great Hall. She was to be his wife and lend her name and blood to his claim on Winterfell. Of course Lyanna had immediately decided that there was no scenario in which that took place. She would either take his life, or take her own; the former being her preferred choice, but either would do.
Even if Theon hadn't slain her innocent younger brothers she wouldn't have married him or let him touch her. He was crass, and had always been so. Robb and Theon had only ever quarreled when Theon had been inappropriate with his friend's twin sister, which was frequently. Though Lyanna took after her namesake and was fierce and brave like her brother Robb, she was raised with a Lady's manners so much like her sister Sansa she cared not for the foul words Theon had often whispered to her.
This particular day was unremarkable. Nothing of particular interest happened. She woke, she dressed, she took breakfast in her chambers, she sewed until Theon summoned her for lunch with him in the Great Hall. He insisted on this so his men and the men of Winterfell would see his intent to make her his own. She sat there in silence every day, refusing to meet his wandering gaze. Then they usually sat there for several hours as he heard from his advisors and petitions from the common folk. At diner he would be sure to place his hand on her leg and whisper filthy things to her, hoping to see her shudder. More often than not they were foul things he was planning to do to her on their wedding night which was fast approaching. But what he did not know was Lyanna was not there for any of that. She was in a different place, far away, where Theon Greyjoy died a thousand times and her brother was still alive.
News of Robb's death had raked through Winterfell the day before with a harshness she couldn't have prepared for. Theon had even appeared a bit off color as some men recited tales of how his wolf's head had been sewn onto his own as they paraded the King in the North's lifeless body through the Twins. Lyanna had simply met Theon's eyes with a cold hatred and turned to leave the room. He grabbed her hand, for a moment she met his eyes and there was the old Theon inside, who looked like he almost wanted to comfort the girl he'd grown up with. But as quickly as she saw it, it was gone. He suddenly released her hand and walked away as if the moment never happened.
Lyanna didn't allow tears to fall as she reached her chambers. Those tears had come and gone when she'd been forced to stand under Bran and Rickon's lifeless bodies. She had wept for them for so long she had thought to herself that is it, I have no more tears for anything again. Then and there she'd decided to be a Stark. Tully emotion had caused her brother to marry his love and end his agreement with the Freys, which cost him his life and their mother's life. Tully emotion had caused her one sister to remain loyal to the Crown even as their father's head was gone. Tully emotion had caused her other sister to flee the Capitol with no notice of where she'd gone. Tully emotion had caused Lyanna herself to open the Winterfell gates to Theon and led to the deaths of… she couldn't finish the thought.
No. From that day on she was a Stark. But not a Stark like her father, who died for his honor, no she would survive. She would be smarter than all of them. She would be the leader the North needed. One day. She grimly thought of the other smart Stark. The one who was not considered a Stark at all, her half-brother Jon. Yes, Jon was a smart. Though at first she begrudged him staying at the Wall when the war came and took Robb from her, Lyanna had realized that he made the right choice. He was still alive, after all.
So here, alone in Winterfell with the Ironborn, Lyanna Stark shed no tears. The only things looming above her were how to kill Theon or herself. She was in her chambers waiting for sleep to take her, dreaming of these things when the door suddenly burst open. It was Theon himself. Panicking for a moment, worried he'd decided to take her for himself now she fumbled with the furs to cover herself. Once her eyes adjusted she saw his face and recognized what she saw: fear.
Theon paced rapidly through the room, muttering nonstop. Lyanna realized now that in the distance she could hear a horn sounding. They were soon to be under attack. "What is happening…" Lyanna began. Before she could finish Theon held a hand up. "Just stop! I can't think with all this noise.. THAT DAMN HORN!" She realized it must have been going on for quite some time and she must have been soundly asleep for it. Theon was clearly at his edge of sanity. He paced some more.
Occasionally he would say things like "just take her now, that way they can't have her? Take her with me? Go where? The crypts? Maester… but no. Cant. Can I? What to..?" These fragmented thoughts were repeated over and over as he shook all over and paced for several hours. He only stopped when he screamed obscenities at the horn player who could certainly not hear them.
Lyanna took the time to dress quietly. Theon didn't seem to notice or care. She moved slowly through her room dressing in the clothes she wore when she would spar with her brother Robb. Of course in her head she was using that term graciously for Robb never seriously fought her. Though he had taught her how to wield a sword better than most men, his height and stature would put him at an advantage over her in almost any scenario. Keeping all of this in mind, Lyanna calmly eyed the sword Theon had looped on his belt.
As the hours dragged by it was almost morning, now she could hear the shouts in the square, and she knew the castle's siege was over. The Ironborn had lost. Lyanna knew that there was no guarantee the victor of Winterfell would be a friend to her, and more likely than not, this was not the case. So, deciding that no matter the outcome she would be pleased as long as Theon died, she grabbed for his sword and successfully wrestled it from him. In but a moment she had pinned him to the ground with it. Theon didn't have any expression besides surprise on his face.
In his mania he'd forgotten Lyanna wasn't a simple girl like Sansa and wasn't a tiny girl like Arya. With one boot on his manhood and the other firmly planted on his sleeve, Theon couldn't move to grab her sword without hurting himself terribly. Hearing the footsteps on the tower behind her didn't move her to go any faster, Lyanna was set on memorizing this. She wanted to go to her death, whenever it was, with Theon Greyjoy's final moments etched in her memory forever. He would pay for his crimes, and he would pay now.
The door burst open behind her, and she did not turn. She heard an exhale of tired breath and realized the man who entered the room had been running up the stairs with some haste. His voice was strong and firm, "what is this?" He wasn't angry, but he also was commanding. He wanted an answer so Lyanna calmly gave him one. "I am Lyanna Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark the deceased Lord of the North, sister of Robb Stark the deceased King in the North, and the eldest remaining Stark heir, and in the names of my father and brother, as the Lady of Winterfell I sentence Theon Greyjoy to death for his treason against my family."
Now the man was next to her, though still she hadn't looked over at him. He was level with her feet, gazing down at the helpless man on the floor. The man asked another question now, curious, "you overpowered him and took his steel?" Lyanna was again unmoving, but answered. "Yes." A soft laugh came from the man. "Well my lady, I apologize to have to take this victory from you, but my father does so desire this prisoner to be taken alive…for now." Lyanna gripped the sword a bit tighter. Seeing this, the man began again, "though I do promise that he will be punished more severely than a quick death, when his time comes."
Realizing she was again changing hands, and any action she took against her new captors would put her at greater odds with them, Lyanna slowly moved the hilt of the sword towards the man. He took it gently from her, and made Theon stand. With a silent flick of his wrist several men entered the room and roughly pulled the heir to the Iron Islands from her chambers and whisked him down the stairs. Now that they were alone Lyanna raised her gaze to meet the strange man's smile.
He was quite tall, with shaggy dark hair not unlike her brother Jon's, though shorter and straighter. He was good looking, and dressed well so she took him to be a man of wealth and noble birth. He quickly offered his hand to her. "My lady, forgive my rudeness, I forget my manners in the heat of the battle." She extended her hand slowly and he took it in his own, giving her a light kiss on her knuckles as was proper for a lady of her status.
"I am Ramsay Bolton, son of Roose, the Lord of the Dreadfort." Lyanna's eyes danced with recognition and then suspicion. Ramsay did not miss either. With another smile he offered her his arm, "I will take you to my father, he is most interested in speaking to you." Seeing no other option Lyanna took his arm and followed him to the Great Hall where they found Roose.
Roose Bolton was standing in front of the head table where he had lain out maps of the North. He was moving markers around and adjusting some in other places, and was deep in conversation when Ramsay and Lyanna entered. Finally an advisor tapped him on his shoulder and pointed. Seeing his son there with the Stark girl was a welcome relief. It was not all for naught, he thought to himself. Roose had worried the Ironborn had killed or damaged the Stark girl beyond all repair and that his plan would be harder to carry out. With her safely in their hands he had a secure hold on The North.
Extending as warm a smile as he could muster Roose Bolton greeted Lyanna. "Lady Lyanna, your beauty has truly grown with each passing year. I am troubled with the manner of our meeting today but am glad to see you are safe." Lyanna stared back at him without words. Roose knew why. "I must first clear the air and let you know that I had no part in your brother and mother's deaths. I was alone in the hall with them and had no men at my aid, had I tried to save them I would be dead too and the North would be Walder Frey's to take." Lyanna let a small part of her frown lessen.
"I see. I thank you for ridding the North of the Ironborn Lord Bolton, my father always considered you a trusted advisor and friend, and he would want me to offer you our thanks." Roose smiled. He was glad to see she had her manners. This was important for the part he meant for her to play. "My lady, you will be safe here with us. There is much to discuss, but perhaps after we have all rested. May I have some of my men escort you back to your chambers?" Lyanna held her head high, "as you please my Lord." Ramsay looked for a moment like he had something to say, but he bit his tongue and looked down. Roose did not miss that but made no mention of it.
As the men escorted Lyanna Stark to her chambers Roose Bolton returned to his planning and Ramsay Bolton marched himself down to the dungeons of Winterfell to begin a new project. Perhaps none of them knew what was in store for the days to come, but every one of them knew it would be unlike any of the days that had come before…