The Wolverine and the Direwolf
Marvel Comics/Game of Thrones Crossover
Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones or X-23.
Rating: M Graphic descriptions of violence herein.
Author's Notes: This is my first Game of Thrones fanfic, so be gentle if I get something wrong with the characters and locations. Lots of blood and gore here, it wouldn't be Game of Thrones without the bloodshed. Also I haven't forgotten my other fics, just had to clear this out of my head first :D
Summary: X-23 gives the Starks a helping claw.
The First sign was when they found her lying in the godswood, at the foot of the weirwood.
Alone and near naked, lying there barely clinging to life. Covered in blood and wearing strange stretchable black material that was torn and barely covered her modesty.
Robb Stark found her like that. Or more accurately Grey Wind.
What was supposed to have been a simple hunt, turned into a follow the direwolf, when Grey Wind caught a scent and took off suddenly towards it, leaving Robb and Theon running after him.
Robb tried and tried to call him back but the direwolf stubbornly ignored his friend's calls, forcing the two lads to follow behind to find whatever had caught Grey Wind's attention.
They came to the weirwood and found Grey Wind gently licking the blood from the girl's face.
With great haste they took her back to Winterfell and delivered her into maester Luwin's tender mercies.
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The Second sign, was when the first morning instead of being safe in bed, under the close scrutiny of maester Luwin, she was found asleep in the kennels, with all of the Starks' Direwolves curled up around her, treating her as one of their own.
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Weeks passed and the mysterious girl still remained a mystery.
She could speak, but could not remember anything not even her name.
Or at least not all of her name.
This was the Third sign.
When asked her name only L came to her lips.
The Northmen were a superstitious lot, and with her colouring many of the smallfolks thought her Lyanna Stark reborn and sent back by the Old Gods to fulfill some purpose.
Baring her green eyes, she looked very much a scion of House Stark. Much more than most of the current Stark children with their red Tully hair and clear blue eyes.
From her first day among them they all called her Lyanna.
Not Lyanna Stark or Lyanna Snow. Just Lyanna.
Though the more pious followers of the Old Gods among the Northerners called her Lyanna Reborn.
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"Truthfully, apart from the eyes, every time I look at her...I see Lyanna." Lord Eddard Stark admitted to maester Luwin.
The old maester nodded sagely, "You are not the first to speak of this my Lord."
They watched the girl play with the direwolves and the youngest Stark children in the yard without a care in the world. Whatever game they were playing was incomprehensible to the adults but they appeared to be a having a grand time of it.
Around them the smallfolks watched and whispered, as the group continued on, not giving them any attention.
"They say she is sent from the Old Gods." Ned commented quietly. "Between the direwolves and her, we seem to be drowning under signs from the Old Gods."
"Mayhaps my lord," he paused, "What does Lady Catelyn say?"
Ned paused, "She...is warming up to her."
"Really?" Luwin asked in surprise.
Ned nodded, "For all the strangeness that surrounds Lyanna, she is very obedient. And it's rubbing off on Arya."
Luwin chuckled, "I'd noticed that."
"Lyanna plays as hard as Arya, but pays attention to Septa Mordane and has managed to get Arya to pay more attention," Ned admitted.
"I heard that. Pay attention, finish quicker and have more time to play were her exact words to Arya, I believe," remarked Luwin drolly, "Very logical for one so young."
Ned merely nodded in response.
They continued to watch the children and direwolves play.
"Is there anything more you can do for her?" asked Ned quietly.
"I have not had to do much for her," admitted Luwin.
"Will she remember?" Ned asked urgently.
Luwin shook his head sadly, "Perhaps...perhaps not. Such maladies of the mind follow no rules, she may remember tomorrow, in a month next year or never." he paused, "But it still disturbs me that even from the first day that Robb brought her to me, I could find no mark on her. She has no scars, no indication of where the blood she was covered in came from."
Ned grunted, "Another sign from the Old Gods?"
Luwin sighed in frustration, "I can say nothing of the intention of the Gods. I am a Maester of the Citadel, a learned man, to read the intents of the Gods is not in my abilities."
Ned remained silent.
"If I may ask, what will you do with her?" Luwin asked inquisitively.
"For now, she will be my ward." Ned declared simply.
Luwin looked down at the yard at the playful children and gossiping smallfolk and nodded, "A wise course my lord."
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Life returned to normal or at least close to normal after a while, Lyanna became a member of the Stark household and life continued on.
The strangeness of her arrival was not forgotten but it was accepted by all.
But her arrival was just another in a long line of upheavals for the Starks of Winterfell.
A raven came from King's Landing, proclaiming the death of Jon Arryn and the coming of the King Robert Baratheon, First of his name.
Preparations were made, all waited with baited breath for the Royal visit.
A little over a month later, the King arrived.
The haughty Queen Cersei of House Lannister despised Lyanna on sight, while King Robert Baratheon, the First of his name, always seemed to lose his voice when he laid eyes on her.
He would look at her as the smallfolks would, as Lyanna Reborn. For him she was the shade of his lost Lyanna come back to haunt him.
The Queen seemed to take great pleasure in belittling the girl, and would go out of her way to put her down and question her standing amongst the Starks and the smallfolks.
Lyanna, in response, dealt with it with the poise and grace of a lady of a Great House. Gracefully and with the tact of a much older and mature lady than her young age...though she went out of her way to stay out of Joffrey's path. And she kept the younger of the Stark children out his path.
Lord Stark was named Hand of the King and weeks later, the King and his new Hand departed Winterfell for King's Landing.
Lyanna went with them.
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The Kingsroad to King's Landing was uneventful, but the Queen's mood remained foul and became fouler whenever she caught sight of Lyanna.
Thankfully Lyanna seemed adept at staying unseen, and all arrived at the capitol without incident.
Things improved marginally there for a time...until it became worse...
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Lyanna had taken to walking the tunnels underneath the Red Keep, at night especially after Arya had overheard such an alarming conversation about wolves and stags.
The recent death of King had made everyone very tense, Lyanna could feel the tension rolling off Lord Stark and the other adults.
Tonight, unlike other night she heard something.
The voices were echoing along the empty corridors and she inched closer to make out what was being said.
She paused at the corner, hiding in the shadow of a broken down archway.
"...as we agreed."
She knew that voice, it was Lord Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin.
She heard the jingle of a coin purse being exchanged. "Of course."
The second voice was more muffled.
"You know what to do?" Baelish continued in his haughty voice.
She edged closer to hear better.
"My men will not strike at Lord Stark and his men till I give give them the command."
Lyanna reeled in shock, now she recognized the second voice, it was Janos Slynt, Lord Commander of the City Watch!
The voices seemed to be getting quieter, she edged closer and closer to the edge of the corner to hear them better, to see what else they would say.
A hand grabbed her hair and pulled her into the light.
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Baelish stared at the girl that Slynt had pulled out of hiding. It was the Stark's little lost wolf, their strange little ward, Lyanna Reborn.
Slynt had her by the hair but the girl hadn't uttered a sound.
"My my, what a pretty bird we've caught," Baelish gave Slynt a look and said, "She's heard too much. Kill her."
Slynt nodded and without hesitation, used her hair to repeatedly smash her face first into the hard stone wall, staining the wall with her blood.
She went limp and he let her slid down, groaning to the ground.
Slynt then pulled out a dagger, knelt down, and slit her throat.
She made no further sounds.
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Varys watched from the shadows, he saw them pull the girl into the light. Smash her skull on the stones, then slit her throat as she lay groaning on the ground, to keep her silent.
He shook his head as he watched from afar.
So much for Lyanna reborn...
Varys remained silent and hidden as Baelish and Slynt then went their separate ways.
He waiting for longer than usual, to make sure that Baelish and Slynt had left, they would be extra careful after this.
His mind ran through various schemes as he waited, unhappily, tomorrow would probably herald a great deal of bloodshed and upheaval, especially for the Starks.
A scrapping sound caught his attention and he looked towards it, blood drained from his face and all thoughts of the Starks fled from him.
He watched as the dead girl sat up for a moment before raising to steady feet. His heart filled with trepidation and fear for the first time in a long time, as the girl shook herself once, before walking away leaving behind a pool of blood from where Janos Slynt had cracked open her skull and slit her throat.
What sort of creature was she? Even a Faceless Man would die if their throat had been slit! What was she?
His little birds had told him of the gossip of the servants of the Stark household; sent by the the old Gods she was, the Lyanna Reborn...
The game of thrones was changing in front of his eyes...and Varys had no idea how this impossible girl would change it.
The only think he was sure of, was he didn't want to be standing near Baelish or Slynt when she changed it.
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For the first time in a long time, Laura Kinney woke up.
Her head was pounding and she was groggy. She immediately recognized the feelings of a serious head injury, there was a pain in her throat. She touched it and her hand came away slick with blood.
She could feel herself healing, who had she been fighting? She quickly took stock of her healing injuries; a head injury and a slit throat, some bruises. All healing and not anything that would keep her down for long.
Slowly memory began to return to her. And she realised just how out of it she had been.
Was this an alien world or a parallel dimension? And how the heck did she get here? There had been a fight in a warehouse. She'd been fighting AIM.
AIM.
Advanced Idea Mechanics.
She growled softly to herself, damn mad scientists! What were you cooking up in that warehouse?!
She took a deep breath and took stock of everything that had happened to her since coming to this Westeros, as the people here called it.
It had only been a few months, and she'd lucked out with the Starks.
She smiled to herself, she thought of Arya. She'd never had a little sister before.
The smile disappeared from her face as she began putting things together mentally. For someone created in the shadows and trained by the inheritors of Weapon X and all the other nastiness that went along with that, she realised quickly what was really going on.
Her hands clenched as she realised just how much danger her new family were in.
She rose to her feet and shook herself. She paused for a second. She could smell Varys here. She could taste the fear that was coming off of him.
It didn't matter she had an ambush to plan.
But, first things first, she looked down at the dress she was wearing. She needed something wouldn't hamper her movements.
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The next day, Baelish stared about.
Where was Varys?
Stark was ready to confront the Queen and her incestuous offspring and yet the Eunuch was nowhere to be found.
He looked at Slynt, who gave a him a slight nod, ready for the command, his services paid and bought in advance.
Stark wouldn't wait any longer for Varys and strode off ready for the confrontation with the Queen in the throne room.
It all proceeded as he had imagined and planned it.
Baelish followed behind and only half listened as dreary Ned Stark droned on about what was right and what was wrong, arguing and commanding the whore Queen Cersei to surrender.
It was all so dreary and dull, but Baelish relished it to a degree, this all was the culmination of so many plans, he would enjoy seeing the honorable and proper Ned Stark laid low.
The Queen looked at Slynt and shared a knowing glance with him. Slynt had been obviously been doubly paid for his services.
It was all about...
A sharp pain exploded in Baelish's head and suddenly darkness descended.
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Ned heard a body thud to the ground behind him and turned drawing Ice, the great Valyrian steel Greatsword with one hand as best he could with his other hand holding his cane. His men drew their swords and stood at the ready looking for a threat.
He looked about and then looked down and found Baelish sprawled face down on the floor a dagger sticking out of the back of his head.
A sudden gurgling sound echoed in his ears and a clanging of an armour heavy body thudding to the ground.
He turned to the sound.
Janos Slynt was grabbing at his throat with his hands. A dagger was sticking out of his throat, blood was gushing out from around his hands, a look of supreme surprise and fear in his eyes.
"You've been betrayed!" he heard Lyanna scream from behind him.
He whorled around and found her clad only in her small clothes, wielding a long sword in each hand. With a high pitched snarl she crashed into the nearest Goldcloaks and preceded to dispatch them with haste.
The sudden realisation of betrayal screamed out at Ned as the rest of the Goldcloaks leveled spears at his few remaining loyal Bannermen.
"Defend yourselves!" Ned commanded his men.
The element of surprise was suddenly on the Northerners side as his men attacked the already surprised Goldcloaks, who were reeling under the twirling blades of Lyanna.
From atop the Iron Throne, "Kill them!" screamed the mad King Joffrey, First of his name.
Ned retreated backwards, protecting himself and his weakened side as best he could as he watched Lyanna continue to throw herself at the assembled Redcloaks and Goldcloaks, that were attacking in full force now. Joffrey's elite Kingsguard, Ser Barristan at their head, along with the Hound, stood back protecting the dais of the Iron Throne.
Ned watched as Lyanna Reborn twirling her twin blades in a lethal dance, cutting down Lannister men and Goldcloaks with every movement, blood spraying everywhere and onto everyone. Her beautiful dance, very very deadly to all that stood in her path.
For a moment, Ned was back at the Tower of Joy facing off against the twin swords of Ser Arthur Dayne, and watching helpless as his loyal Bannermen fell, one after another to his blades.
But he wasn't in Dorne, he was in the Red Keep in King's Landing, surrounded by traitorous Lannisters and Goldcloaks led by the foul Queen Cersei and her abominable offspring Joffrey.
His surviving men formed a defensive circle around him as the Redcloaks and Goldcloaks started to focus more on Lyanna, giving him the chance to focus more on watching her sword work.
And as he watched, his own blade held at the ready, he realised that Laura was better than Ser Arthur Dayne. A great deal better. He gaped as she suddenly cartwheeled out of the way at the last minute, leaving a Redcloak and a Goldcloak to skewer each other on each others' swords, but she paid them no attention, she was already cutting down another Goldcloak with a savage blow that left his head hanging on to his neck by mere threads of flesh.
The bodies and entrails littered the floor of the throne room, the stones of floor were covered everywhere in a thick layer of blood as she danced closer and closer to the throne and the shouts of the false King Joffrey grew more and more wretched and screechy as he continued to belittle and command his men to kill her and the Northerners.
Her actions were savage, a Redcloak lost his head, blood gushing everywhere and before it hit the ground, she had kicked it into the face of yet another onrushing Goldcloak with enough force to stun the man long enough for her to disembowel him with a reverse stroke of one of her blades.
She was the Direwolf of the North made flesh and Men fell before her.
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Ser Barristan watched and waited for his moment to strike, the girl was a fighter nearly unmatched, that much he could see in but the opening minutes of the fight. She put Arthur Dayne and Mad King's old Kingsguard to shame, but he could see holes in her style, she left herself open to many attacks...and he would take advantage of that.
He watched and waited sword at the ready...he saw his opening and without hesitation struck, doing his duty as he had always done.
He was prepared for the jolt as his blade broke skin and the sword's edge sawed against her lower ribs, he continued his stroke till the tip broke free from her back.
His eyes met her's and she smiled at him. It was only for a second but for the slimmest of instances, his instincts screamed at him that he'd fallen into a trap.
His head rocked back as the girl slammed her fist into his jaw, he felt a foot slip behind his and suddenly he was sprawled out on the ground, laid out in front of the girl. He'd lost his grip on his sword as he fell.
His eyes focused and he looked up at the girl and suddenly he wasn't in a hurry to get back up again.
She stood there, like a thing out of a nightmare. She'd dropped one of her swords. She was soaked in blood and entrails, nearly naked with his sword running her though as if the lethal blow was nothing.
What little fighting had remained died down around them as she stood there sword impaling her. All stopped at stare at the impossible act.
She tossed her head back at Lord Stark, "He respects you. Stay down and live. Stand and Die." she spoke with the utmost confidence, her voice filled with the certainty of death, Ser Barristan's sword still embedded in her flesh. No pain echoed in her calm and collected voice.
His horror grew as, without a care in the world, she grasped the hilt of his sword and slowly pulled it out of her stomach. Blood gushed from the wound as the tip came free, but quickly the blood slowed to a trickle and as he watched, the wound closed, leaving no mark of the grievous and supposedly lethal wound that he had just inflicted on the girl.
She gazed around her at the wavering Redcloaks, Goldcloaks and Kingsguard, her green eyes hard and uncompromising. She raised her remaining sword into the air the dropped it. The clang of it hitting the ground reverberated through the throne room, "It's time to stop holding back."
Ser Barristan blanched, holding back? He gazed around at the number of dead that crowded the floor, most by her hand, with only a few killed by Lord Stark's remaining men. This is her holding back?
Next to the Iron throne, the Queen wavered, white with fear. Joffrey was uncharacteristically silent now.
Snikt
Barristan flinched as twin short blades appeared from between the girl's knuckles of each hand. She assumed a fighting stance and pointed the blades of one hand towards the Iron Throne.
"They die now," she stated in the same calm and confident voice of before, she turned to the Lannister guards and Goldcloaks, "Run and live, Stand and Die." the absolute certainty of her voice shook Barristan.
Most of the Goldcloaks ran, with Slynt and Baelish dead, there was no one to rally them or pay them for their continued loyalty. Some of the Lannister men also ran...but not all.
Fear of the old Lion, Tywin Lannister, probably kept them in their places despite the supreme skill displayed by the girl against them.
The remaining Kingsguard and Sandor Clegane stood at the ready with the Redcloaks.
Ser Meryn Trant rushed the girl and struck at her with an overhead blow of his greatsword. She caught the blow with her blades crossed, above her head, locking his blade there.
She held his blade there for a second before smiling wolfishly and then uncrossing her arms, shattering his blade.
Trant reeled back and stared at the hilt of his broken sword in utter disbelief for second. His hesitation killed him as she aimed at a kick at his head.
Snikt
His head flew off his shoulders and more blood spattered the throne room.
Barristan blinked, he stared at her feet that now sported blades there as well.
More men fled, some stayed.
Those left attacked her en mass.
Her short blades met no resistance, cutting through swords, armour and flesh with the same ease. Men died clutching cut throats, others trying to hold in tattered remains of intestines, or holding the blood soaked stumps of limbs.
Barristan watched in frozen fright as she butchered the last of the Kingsguard and Redcloaks.
This was no longer a battle, this was butchery.
The last of the defenders fell, leaving only the Hound to stand between the monstrous girl and the King.
The Hound, Sandor Clegane, sword at the ready took a step towards the girl. He looked between the blood soaked girl with magical blades, the dead men and the new King.
"Fuck this!" he turned to look back at Joffrey and his mother who were shivering in fear. "And fuck you and your whore mother!" he sheathed his sword and stepped out of Lyanna's path.
For once in his life, Ser Barristan did not do his Duty and remained prone, in submission, bested by a little girl.
By Lyanna Reborn.
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Cersei shivered in fear, as the blood spattered monster stepped past the cowardly Hound.
She was frozen where she stood, unable to flee. Where would she flee? All her guards were dead or fleeing. She felt wetness moving down her legs and realised that her bladder had voided.
"What are you?" she breathed in fear, as the monster approached the Iron Throne, slowly and assuredly, walking up the steps in front of the throne one at a time.
The monster didn't answer, it just kept coming closer. It stood now on the dais, in front of the Iron Throne, between Cersei and her son.
Her son sat on the Iron Throne, mute and unable to move, the fear of the monster shining out from his Lannister eyes.
The monster swiped at Joffrey with her right arm.
"NO!" Cersei screamed in anguish as Joffrey's head rolled down the steps in front of the Iron Throne.
Snakt
The monster's blades disappeared.
The monster turned flinty green eyes on her and growled at her, Cersei was still too terrified to move.
The monster stepped closer towards her and whispered in a calm voice, "You remind me of Kimura."
Snikt
Cersei choked and coughed, blood erupting from her mouth. She felt a pain and looked down. The monster's claws were in her stomach
The monster ripped her claws free, and Cersei felt nothing ever again.
Author's notes: Hope u liked this. Cersei and Jofrrey get what they deserve. As always, Don't forget to Review! :D