When all her sisters are gone and her mother too, Lyanna Mormont knows that she cannot fall to her knees and cry. Instead, she walks the halls of Castle Black, the shades whispering to her. She can't weep.
"It is not wrong to grieve," Lord Commander Snow tells her. He is such a grim, stern-faced man. Lyanna gazes upon Longclaw at his side. Again she has to remind herself that her uncle gave the sword to him. Why? Perhaps because he though him worthy of it. Or did he consider him a son?
"Later, Lord Snow," Lyanna whispers. She expects that he will leave her here, with falling, frozen tears. Instead he guides her to a bench, encouraging her to place her head on his shoulder. Lyanna misses her sisters and her mother horribly by now. "Does it ever end?"
"No," he answers. And to this Lyanna can but smile, for she remembers what they used to say about his father. Starks are no liars, neither is he. (For he's a Stark as much as his siblings had been.) "I don't think so." He pats her back gently, brotherly even. The young woman still smiles through her tears.
Lyanna hums softly in the back of her throat. The ghosts are not so loud any longer. Winter has come.
