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Chapter Four
Flashback
"Jon, have you ever wondered how high the sky goes?" I asked, my twelve-year-old mind fixated on this single thought. It was a sunny day for once, albeit a little chilly, and we were lying stretched out near the heart-tree. He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Not really," he replied. "I don't tend to think about things like that. What's the point?"
"Sometimes I feel the sky must be hundreds of thousands of miles away. How high would you have to climb just to touch it?"
Jon thought about it, hair falling over his face as his brow creased in concentration. "That ironwood tree over at the other side of the godswood is the biggest tree in Winterfell. Maybe if you climbed up there you could reach the sky." I sat up, grinning.
"I have an idea."
I leaped off the ground, landing straight on my right foot to start running, and Jon a moment behind me. I tried to avoid anything that could trip me up, sometimes failing. But I reached the massive tree, panting with exertion, the sweat beading on my neck. The ironwood loomed in front of me, darkening the path with its even bigger shadow. Richard had told me it was planted the day the world began. I had a feeling he was right.
I heard Jon behind me, his quiet footsteps halting at my side. I smiled breathlessly. "I'd better get climbing then," I announced. His eyes widened.
"Are you mad? You'll fall! Lyara-"
"I'll be fine! Where's your courage gone, Jon Snow?" Before he could say anything, I pulled myself determinedly onto the lowest and first branch. Jumping up to wrap my arms and legs around the next one, and the next, and the next, until I was halfway up the tree and Jon was almost a pinprick below. The sky awaited me, I couldn't let it down. But as my hand grasped the next bough, and my entire body weight relied on it, it snapped, sending me plummeting to the world below.
"LYARA!"
Lyara
I woke before I hit the ground, and the end of the memory came to me. I had landed on Jon; or rather he had caught me before getting knocked off his feet. He'd yelled at me never to do that again before storming off and leaving me to go home alone. The day after, we met again in the sparring field, and spent the entire day there, friends once more.
In reality, I was once again lying on Jon, except in a much more comfortable position and five years later. He was already awake and looking at me with tranquillity in his lovely grey eyes. "Good morning," I yawned, my lips settling into a smile as the excess influx of air left my lungs. His right arm was wound around my waist from the back, his left around my shoulders and chest from the front. I was snuggled into his side, my head on his chest, and in a state of complete bliss.
"Good morning. How did you sleep?" he asked, a smile playing around his own lips. Clearly, he was in a good mood today.
"Fine. How were the past few hours when you were awake?" He shook his head, sighing.
"Lyara, how exactly do you know that?"
"You've got dark circles under your eyes and you're desperately trying to hide the fact that you want to yawn. Jon, what's wrong?"
"It was merely a nightmare."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not particularly." I raised my eyebrows, but decided not to push him any further and got off the bed.
"I have to go. Orla and Richard are going to kill me as it is, I may as well be on time for my execution." Jon rose.
"I'll walk you to the castle gates."
"Jon..."
"Lyara, I'm walking you to the castle gates. No arguments."
"But-" He put his finger to my lips and shook his head again.
"No."
What had possessed him to insist on that so strongly I had no idea. If we were seen together after I'd buggered off without telling anyone, the beholder would instantly assume...well, the worst(in their eyes). Not that I gave a flying fuck. I absentmindedly followed Jon down the hallway, not concentrating much on my path and therefore tripping over my own feet every two seconds. We both snorted with laughter at the sixth time, returning me to my senses, forcing me to wipe away tears of mirth from my eyes. "You are the maddest girl I've ever met," Jon grinned.
"Mad yourself," I huffed, sticking out my tongue like a child and smiling. His eyes took on an unfamiliar expression. One I couldn't read. Soft, but fiery at the same time. And focused on me.
"You look beautiful when you smile," he mumbled, a slight flush colouring his cheeks. I, less subtle, blushed a bright crimson, looking to the floor to hide it.
"Uh...thank you..." I stammered. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth.
Something happened then that took me completely by surprise at the time, despite myself and the errant dreams I'd had in the previous weeks. I barely even registered anything else as Jon Snow grabbed me quicker than lightning and kissed me.
My heart pounded in my chest, my lips taking on a mind of their own as they returned the kiss just as passionately. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. But it felt so, so good. My mouth opened of its own accord, allowing our tongues to meet. Somehow, we were moving backwards, so my spine was pressed against the wall. We had to stop as a voice echoed through the corridor. "Ay, ay! What's this?"
"Fuck off, Greyjoy," I hissed. Theon ignored me completely.
"Well then, Snow. Didn't think you had it in you!" he snickered.
"Do I need to say it again? Fuck off."
"All right, I'm going. Just try not to fuck in the hallway." I watched his retreating back, seething. Jon sighed, annoyed, but turned his attention to me.
"I'm sorry. I just...had to do that, just once," he apologized.
"I didn't exactly put up a fight, Jon. You shouldn't be sorry." I pulled him back by his leather jerkin and gently pressed our lips together once more. "I have to go."
Jon
I could still taste Lyara's lips as she left. It had been foolish to let my hormones rule me in the instant I had kissed her. I was two seconds away from taking her back to my bedchambers, and would have if Theon had not interrupted. That interruption was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because I would be leaving for the Wall hopefully within the next two weeks and to bed Lyara would ultimately have ruined any resolve I had, and bad because I would have enjoyed bedding her. Or at least, that's what my aching groin was telling me. I winced as it threatened to stiffen. Wonderful.
My stomach rumbled; only now realising it was hungry. I got some bread from the kitchens before heading in the general direction of the courtyard to see if I could find my Uncle Benjen. As luck would have it, I was stopped by him halfway there, and my heart skipped several beats at the look on his face. His usual laughing eyes held a tint of sadness. "Uncle," I acknowledged respectfully.
"Jon. I talked to your father last night," he told me.
"And?"
"He gives his permission for you to join us at Castle Black. We leave tomorrow." My face split into a grin. Finally! But my joy was encumbered by the sorrow in his eyes, behind the smile. "Jon...it's not too late for you to stay."
Lyara
"How dare you?! Sneaking off to see that bastard boy in the middle of the night! I knew we should have stayed and kept an eye on you. That's the final straw, Lyara! What were you doing? Tell me, and if you lie to me I swear to the Seven that you'll be sorry!" Orla screamed.
"I didn't do anything! I just slept in Jon's bedchambers for the night! What, do you think he fucked me? Did you think his baby was quickening in my belly? Well you were wrong!" I shouted. I barely got a chance to say it before she slapped me, hard and fast, full across my face. Both of us stood there, in complete shock. She sank down onto a chair.
"I'm sorry that I hit you. Lyara...I love you as if you were my own, you know that, don't you?" I frowned. Where was this going? "And if I could cope, I wouldn't have done this."
"What do you mean?"
"Richard and I thought long and hard about this, but last night, as I said, was the final straw. We're...we're sending you away."
Nothing could have prepared me for those four little words. My stomach clenched. "You're sending me away? Where?"
"To King's Landing. You'll train as a Septa there. It's already decided-you leave next week." She put her head in her hands, soft sobs coming from her throat. "I didn't want to do it, Lyara. You've just become so wild I really can't cope with you anymore!" I was blinded by the tears that suddenly welled in my eyes. I had let Orla down. I had let my family down. Of course they would send me away! I brushed the teardrops away, trying to stop them falling. Maybe if I did as I was told for once, they would be proud. Training as a Septa was a noble occupation.
But it wasn't mine.
Try as I might, I couldn't will myself to obey. I couldn't waste my life like that! To waste all those years of archery practise and sparring on what? Teaching highborn girls how to act like a lady? I couldn't help but inwardly laugh at that. If I was anything, it wasn't ladylike. I remembered Jon's Uncle Benjen. Was he looking for new recruits? An idea began to blossom in my mind.
I'd have to act soon. I wasn't sure when Benjen Stark was leaving but I was going with him, no matter what. I went back down to Orla. She raised her head, eyes still sore and red, still glistening with tears. She saw the question in my eyes.
"Yes," she murmured brokenly. "Just this once. Go. Say goodbye."
"Thank you," I mumbled. I sprinted outside, through the town and into the castle courtyard. I couldn't see Jon. Apparently though, he could see me.
"Lyara?" His voice came from behind me. I turned around, and my heart instantly melted again at the sight of his slate grey irises.
"Jon," I sighed, relieved. He frowned.
"What's wrong? After last night I would have thought-"
"No. Well, yes, but it's worse than that." He took my hand, leading me towards the godswood.
"Come on. We need to talk."
We stopped at the weirwood as we had thousands of times before, but as he sat down he opened his arms for me to fall into for the first time. An invitation I gladly accepted. "You first," I offered.
"My father's granted my request to join the Night's Watch," he began. My heart rose, then sank. I'd be around Jon for the rest of my life, which was a great thing, but what if he could recognize me after I'd disguised myself as a boy? Damn, this would be harder than I had originally thought. "I leave for the Wall tomorrow to take the Black."
"Congratulations," I smiled half-heartedly. "I'm happy for you."
"We both know that that's not true." Jon shook his head in mock-exasperation. "But thank you for trying. What about you?" He began to stroke my hair, and it was impossible to think clearly while that was going on.
"I-uh-I..." I turned to jelly in his arms. "Could you please stop doing that so I can think coherently?" He smiled wryly and paused in his hair-stroking. I took a deep breath, remembering when I had done this and burst into tears in front of Orla. This time I regained my composure. "Orla's sending me away to the Capital," I confessed, and my voice broke despite my efforts. His face went slack with shock.
"What?! Why? Lyara, what happened?"
"She said today was the final straw, that she couldn't cope with me anymore and that I was being sent to King's Landing to be trained as a Septa. I let her down. I let them all down." He stared at me for a moment, and then hugged me tighter. I felt him bury his face in my hair, his warm breath tickling and his full, soft lips brushing the top of my head as he nuzzled me.
"I'm so, so sorry, Lyara," he said thickly, muffled. "It's my fault-if I hadn't asked you to-"
"DON'T YOU DARE!" My yell echoed through the godswood, sending birds flying from their trees. "Don't you dare blame yourself, Jon Snow. I fucked up, and there's no-one to blame but me."
"You really are an amazing creature. You take the weight of the world on your shoulders yet when someone offers to help bear the burden you refuse."
We stayed like that for half an hour, him holding me and nuzzling my head, I with my arms wrapped around his middle in the cradle of his arms. "I don't want to go to the Capital," I muttered. He half-smiled ruefully and kissed the top of my head again.
"I know." Tightening his grip around me, Jon stood up, pulling me upright too. "I'm going to miss you, Lyara Rierden. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me." Tears threatened again. I wiped them away and locked eyes with him.
"I am really, really going to miss you," I snuffled, voice breaking. He nodded, grey eyes shimmering for a moment too. I didn't see if he cried, because he lifted me into an embrace that felt so bittersweet my heart literally broke and mended again. Then he left, and I was alone, just like the time when we were twelve. My legs collapsed then, and I allowed myself to weep as much as my soul wanted to. I could only do this for five minutes though because I heard a maddeningly familiar voice.
"What are you crying about?" Theon Greyjoy inquired, his voice mocking. I snorted, wiped my sleeve across my eyes and glared at him.
"What's it to you, Theon?" I growled, meaning to sound angry but instead sounding weary. His face showed surprise.
"You never call me Theon. You're either really upset or you're finally warming to me." He sat down beside me.
"I'm neither, and the day I stick pins in my eyes will be the day I warm to you."
"I know how to cheer you up." Theon wiggled his eyebrows. "If you're willing." I groaned in disgust.
"I will never be willing to fuck you."
"You'd be surprised about what you'll be willing to do with me..." He began to push my hair away from my face, leaning in to kiss my neck. I started to try to push him off me as I found myself pinned under him, struggling to get leverage. He had a good fifty pounds on me in solid muscle alone. His lips and teeth introduced themselves to my throat anyway, and I was beginning to get furious. How dare he treat me like a whore he could have at will?
"Get-off-OF-ME!" I snarled, pushing with all my strength. He fell backwards onto his arse, dazed. "Don't you even think of pulling an act like that again! Or it won't just be your pitiful cock I'll slice off, Greyjoy."
"And there I thought we'd moved on from Greyjoy. What happened to Theon?"
"You can shove that up your arse. I'm off-try not to rape anyone on the way home."
"You're still bitter about me catching you with your tongue down Snow's throat?"
"You thank your Drowned God that you're stupid enough to be let off on that one."
"I think I can beat a girl in a fight," Theon scoffed.
"To reiterate; you're stupid enough to be let off. Shut your unholy gob or I'll bloody shut it for you." I turned on my heel and marched out of the godswood.
I ran upstairs the moment that I entered my home. I would have less than twenty minutes to grab some clothes from Kirren's room before he got back from work with Richard. I chose ones he wouldn't easily miss, ones close to my own size but still loose enough to cover my breasts and to pad my lanky, but unmistakeably female shape. I also took a pair of boots I had never seen him wear and a thick cloak. Jon would recognize my own travel cloak instantly if I was just two seconds under his eye. Sneaking back to my own room, I hid the clothes under the mattress, hoping no-one would notice they were missing and come for a look around.
I insisted I wasn't hungry, refusing supper. Orla was doubtful, asking me if I was sickening for something, but went back downstairs to eat, leaving me alone. She'd stop in later, so I had to be careful about my actions and what I left lying around just in case.
Thankfully my sword, bow and quiver resided in my room, but my armguards were another matter. I'd have to forego them if I was to get out in time. I wasn't thankful however for the time to think that this was giving me. Was going to the Wall the right answer? I would never see Orla and Richard again. I could never be intimate with Jon or anyone else, ever again. Jon I would have had to give up anyway, but at least this way I could still be his friend. Was that so bad? The majority of my brain screamed yes, forcing me to remember the feel of his full lips caressing mine, his rough skinned, gentle hands stroking my hair, waking up with him, his arms wrapped around me. The other part said no. Sure, I could never marry him, make love to him, bear his children, or even kiss him again. But I could be with him for the rest of my days and that was something I'd give anything for. It was this that kept me going, gave me the strength to cut my waist-length hair off to my chin, put the clothes on barring cloak and boots and leap into bed to pretend to sleep before Orla came in.
She sighed at my (false) peaceful state of sleep. "Goodnight, Lyara," she whispered.
Jon
"JON!" Robb yelled, wild with fright and panic. "Come quick!" My eyes widened. What was going on? They'd only been back a few hours from the hunt, what could have happened?
I ran, racing towards my brother. He held something, something that looked suspiciously like...oh no. Oh, Gods, NO!
Bran's crumpled, lifeless body lay still in Robb's arms. "He's still breathing!"
Tears began to run, thick and fast, down my face. They blinded me, and I furiously rubbed them away before sprinting to call for help. "HELP! Anyone! HELP!" Ser Rodrik was the first there, followed by Jory and even more closely followed by Father.
"Jon? What is it?" Lord Stark's voice rumbled.
"Bran! He's fallen! Father, help!" My voice was cracking like a young boy's. Father's face blanched in shock and horror.
"Get him indoors and lying down. NOW!"
His shout was full of authority, and sent people running. We carried Bran, careful not to move him much, up to his room, startling Old Nan as she sat by the fire. He was laid down on the bed. Then a heartbroken shriek like a wounded animal's ripped through the air.
"My baby!" Catelyn Stark cried, sobbing brokenly. "Not my Bran! Please, no!" She clawed her way through to him, holding Bran's little head and wailing, completely grief-stricken. Father put his arms around her, holding her, rocking her, murmuring to her. The crowd dispersed. Soon I was the only other left in the room. Catelyn looked at me. "Get OUT, bastard," she hissed, choking on a sob and glaring at me. I fled, escaping to my bedchambers, locked the door and fell on the bed, letting the tears fall and form in my throat until I was gagging on them. I barely even notice my eyelids drooping until I'm asleep.
I'm in bed. This doesn't feel like a nightmare; it doesn't have the oppressing, apprehensive air to it. Another person sleeps soundly beside me. As she rolls over I can see Lyara's face. I'm suspicious now, am I sure it's not a nightmare? She looks so soft, so vulnerable as she slumbers. Like a little girl. She appears to be a few years older, in her early twenties, more a woman. None of this shocks me so much as the fact that we're both under the covers of the same bed, completely naked. I go to rub my eyes and see a slim silver band on my left index finger; a wedding ring. The matching one is on Lyara's left index.
Not a nightmare. A possible future, maybe? I reach out to her, go to wrap my arms around her waist, and find something unfamiliar. Her usually slender abdomen is swollen, creating a large, prominent bump that stands out from the rest of her body. It takes me a moment but I soon realise what it is.
My child is growing inside her belly.
She's six, maybe seven months pregnant from the size of the bump. I move my hands upwards a way, my face hot from a blush, gingerly touching her breasts. They, too, are obviously bigger than her normal small size, soft, generous and heavy with milk. She begins to stir and I move my hands quickly back down to the bump, then away to my sides, trying to hide yet another flush. "Jon? Are you awake?" she mumbles. Her gorgeous hazel eyes are cloudy with sleep as they open, but clear as she blinks.
"Yes. Go back to sleep, love," I say, the 'love' slipping out. She smiles wearily before taking my hand and holding it to the curve of her stomach.
"He's kicking." I can feel small, butterfly-like nudges under the skin. My lips break into an awed smile.
My eyelids opened at that point. Apparently I was having too long a good dream for it to carry on. That always happened when things were particularly bad-I'd get a decent dream for once. I blocked out the feel of the dream, knowing I couldn't stay, I shouldn't stay, I didn't want to stay, concentrating on that...
I wanted her so badly. I'd thought it was just her lips and the feel of her in my arms I wanted. But I wanted; even needed all of her, her hips, her legs, her breasts, her neck, even her own arms to wind around my neck so I could crush my lips against hers and kiss her forever. I wanted Lyara so much I ached for her. "Damn it," I groaned to myself. I had already made my decision. I was leaving with my Uncle Benjen...and joining the Night's Watch. I'd forget about her eventually. 'Bullshit,' my inner voice scoffed. Not only that, but what about Bran? He was the biggest attraction to staying. I needed to be there for him, didn't I? When he woke up.
Despite either of those reasons I found myself outside Mikken's (the only other blacksmith in Winterfell) the next morning, getting a sword forged for Arya's goodbye present. I'd asked to make it small, skinny, and above all, well balanced. I watched him wipe soot off the blade with mild interest, my mind brooding over what to say to everyone. A voice interrupted my thoughts. "A sword for the Wall?"
I turned around to see Jaime Lannister. "I already have one," I answered, indicating to the blade on my hip.
"Good man. Have you swung it yet?" Ah, a topic of interest. My face cleared.
"Of course I have." He gave me a pitying expression as if I were stupid. My face felt hot.
"At someone, I mean." I hesitated. Did sparring count? I doubted it. "It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realise we're nothing but sacks of meat, blood and some bone to keep it all standing." I was just staring at him. I probably did look a bit simple. I rooted around in my head for something to say. He got there first, holding his hand out for me to shake. I accepted the gesture. "Let me thank you, ahead of time. For guarding as all from the perils beyond the Wall. Wildlings, and White Walkers and whatnot." He pulled my arm towards me in a quick, painful jerk. "We're grateful. A good, strong man like you protecting us," he finished. He patted my shoulder and went to walk away. I gathered what was left of my dignity.
"We've guarded the Kingdoms for eight thousand years," I said quickly, trying to salvage some respect for the Wall. He smirked, raising a brow.
"Is it 'we', already? Have you taken your vows, then?"
"Soon enough."
"Give my regards to the Night's Watch. I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force. And if not," a quick shrug, "It's only for life." He walked off. I grit my teeth and moved back towards Mikken, who stared at me as he handed me Arya's sword. Great.
My first errand was to say goodbye to Arya. Bran and Robb were next. I climbed the stairs and padded along hallways to her room, where I found her packing. She met my eyes and huffed.
"Septa Mordane says I have to do it again," she explained. "My things weren't properly folded, she says. Who cares how they're folded?! They're going to get all messed up anyway."
"It's good you've got help," I replied, nodding to Nymeria, her grey and white direwolf.
"Watch. Nymeria, gloves." The wolf sat, looking puzzled. She made a confused noise in her throat. I raised an eyebrow.
"Impressive."
"Shut up. Nymeria, gloves!" The wolf cocked her head to one side with another noise.
"I have something for you. It has to be packed very carefully."
"A present?" Her eyes lit up. Gods, how I adored Arya. Wild, messy Arya whose hair I mussed and who I watched argue with Sansa day after day.
"Close the door." I walked over to the bed, putting the bundle with the sword down, while she checked the hallway outside and closed the door. I held the sword in its beautifully made sheath out to her. "This is no toy. Be careful you don't cut yourself." I pulled out the blade, giving it to my little sister, who admired it in awe, glee and terror at once.
"It's so skinny," she breathed.
"So are you," I chuckled. "I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."
"I can be quick."
"You'll have to work at it every day."
"Like you and Lyara?" I paused, and sighed, smiling wryly.
"Yes, like me and Lyara. So how does it feel? D'you like the balance?"
"I think so." I cupped her head with my hand, bending down and looking directly into her eyes.
"First lesson. Stick 'em with the pointy end," I joked.
"I know which end to use," she said crossly. I smiled again and stood up.
"I'm going to miss you." She reached for me, sword still in hand. I retreated a pace or two. "Careful!" She set the sword down, and without warning, jumped on me, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. I gave her a tight cuddle before saying, "All the best swords have names, you know." She deliberated for a moment.
"Sansa can keep her sewing needles," she muttered defiantly. "I've got a Needle of my own." I hugged her harder, closing my eyes. Then, for the last time for a while, I set her down.
"I have to go. Don't get in too much trouble, and remember to work at your swordplay. Goodbye, little sister," I mumbled.
Bran would be much harder to say goodbye to. Catelyn guarded him day and night, scarcely sleeping. Even so, I stopped outside the door, took a deep breath, and entered. She glanced up, and her expression turned to disgust after acknowledging I was there. "I came to say goodbye to Bran," I declared, trying to sound braver than I felt.
"You've said it," she responded dully. Trying to ignore her gaze following me across the room, I stepped over to Bran's bed. To think that only the day before he had been so happy, vital, full of life. I pushed the thought away and spoke.
"I wish I could be here when you wake up. I'm going North with Uncle Benjen. I'm taking the Black." I knelt. "I know we always talked about seeing the Wall together, but you can come and visit me at Castle Black when you're better. I'll know my way around by then. I'll be a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. We can go out walking beyond the Wall if you're not afraid." I felt Catelyn's gaze burning into me. Even so I leaned over and kissed Bran on his ice pale forehead. Neither one of us registered Father at the doorway. Catelyn looked straight at me, into my eyes.
"I want you to leave," she enunciated, in case I hadn't got the message. Well, for once, I did as I was told, and walked past Father outside to safety where my heart could scream in pain in relative peace. I could hear her inside. "Seventeen years ago, you rode off with Robert Baratheon. You came back a year later with another woman's son..." I sprinted out of the castle, anger gnawing at my chest. I went immediately to the stables, got my tack, and would have been out of Winterfell in two seconds flat if Robb hadn't joined my side.
"Have you said goodbye to Bran?" he asked. I nodded. "He's not going to die. I know it."
"You Starks are hard to kill" I agreed wearily.
"My mother?"
"She was very kind." I hoped to the Gods Robb couldn't see through the bullshit. Thankfully, it worked.
"Good. Next time I see you, you'll be all in black," he offered cheerfully.
"It was always my colour," I grinned. His face took on a more serious tone.
"Farewell, Snow."
"And you, Stark." There was a brief pause before the hug, which was brotherly, hard and playful. I watched him leave. I would miss Robb with all my heart. My brother, my friend. Speaking of friends, I was upset that Lyara had not come out to say goodbye. I even considered going into the lion's den and asking to see her for a split second, but for the sake of my own well-being and health I decided against it. I got on my horse and rode up to Uncle Benjen.
"Are you ready?" he inquired.
"Yes," I confirmed. We were about to get going when we both heard a voice.
"Is this going to the Wall?" A boy's voice. Uncle Benjen turned his horse around. A tall boy on a horse was trotting toward us.
"Yes," he answered gravely. "Are you coming with us?"
"I would like that."
"What's your name?"
"Liam Snow." 'Another bastard,' my mind remembered vaguely.
"Well then, Liam Snow, welcome to the Night's Watch."