Another update already?
Why yes children. Another update.
Okay, I have two big pieces of news!
First one: my friend Charlotte and I have started a Lord of the Rings/Game of Thrones crossover story! If you guys checked it out, that would mean A LOT! It's called "War Is Coming" on the account CasandChar.
Secondly: I have a new poll up on my profile, and I would LOVE it if you guys voted! It would seriously help me out. Or even answering the question in a review or PM would be great. "Would you like Lyra Lannister and Elira Manston's paths to cross?"
Alright, I think that's it!
As always, thanks so much for reading/subscribing/faving and most especially reviewing!
Although you guys probably hate me for not having Robb in this chapter /shot/ SORRY GUYS. I STILL LOVE YOU.
Enjoy! Mwah!
Elira
An overwhelming sense of dread washed over the Manston girl as she slowly urged her feet to move, one after the other, step after step. Almost two months ago, she had to say goodbye to her family. Now, just after being acquainted with the Starks, three of them would be going South to King's Landing, and Jon, who had become her closest friend in Winterfell, was going North to take the Black. She hated saying goodbye…but it had to be done.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on Sansa's door. Elira nervously played with the small pouch of presents; she had gotten small tokens for Sansa, Arya, Jon and even Ned. They had become like family to her, and she wanted to show her appreciation in some form, even though there was no way to repay them the Starks' hospitality and kindness.
The door swung open, revealing a beaming Sansa, with her direwolf, Lady, at her feet. "Elira!" She enfolded her good-sister in a hug. "Come in!" She grabbed Elle's hand, leading her into her bedchambers, then slammed the door shut. "How do I look?" the Stark asked, twirling around.
"Beautiful, as always," Elira assured her truthfully. Sansa's long, auburn locks were left loose, except for two tight braids on the top of her head. She wore a woolen light blue dress with darker blue patterns on it.
"Good!" Sansa exclaimed, relieved. "I hope Joffrey thinks so, too!" She sat on the bed next to Elle. "Oh, he's so handsome, isn't he? And he's a prince!"
Elira chuckled and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid I can't say anything about the prince; all flatteries are reserved for your brother." Truth be told, Joff was a 'right royal prick', as Robb called him. The entire three weeks he was here, he'd looked down on everyone and treated them like dirt. Tyrion Lannister often had to put him in his place. Thank the gods for the Imp, Elira thought wryly.
"And to think that I'll be his queen someday! Elle, can you believe it?" Elira just plastered a fake smile on her face. She didn't want Sansa to get hurt by the golden-haired boy. She almost asked about Ryker, but decided against it. She didn't want to ruin Sansa's good mood.
"I brought a present for you," the Manston girl said, pulling on the drawstrings of the pouch to open it. "So you won't forget me."
Sansa smiled. "I could never forget you." She bounced up and down on the bed. "I'll send you ravens everyday! I'll tell you how beautiful King's Landing is! And maybe you can come see me!" She gasped with delight and clapped her hands together. "You can bring your baby!"
"You'll have to get settled in first, sweet," Elira replied. "And I'm sure it will be a very long time until we have a baby." Sansa's expression fell. "I can come for your wedding! I wouldn't miss it for the world." The Stark's grin returned.
Elle pulled the bracelet out from the pouch and tied it around the Stark girl's wrist. Eight carved wooden charms hung from the chain: eight wolves. "One for each of your family members," Elle explained softly.
"It's lovely," Sansa murmured, tightly hugging Elira. "Thank you." She paused for a moment. "Although there should be one more."
"And why is that?"
"One for you." Sansa leaned back, her lips curved slightly upwards. Tears welled in her blue eyes. "You're a Stark now. You're part of the family."
Elle wrapped her good-sister in another hug, tears swimming in her own eyes. "I'll miss you, Sansa Stark."
Arya was next. Elira had no doubts that she would miss the little spitfire. She was such a contrast to Sansa, and although she would miss them both dearly, nothing could compare to early morning training sessions with Arya. She was wild, untameable, and, when her parents weren't around, she had a foul mouth. No matter how many times Elira would try to stop her from cursing, Arya wouldn't listen. She couldn't help but think how much Ryker would enjoy the practices; cursing and sparring were his two favourite things.
Arya Stark opened the door even before Elle had the chance to knock. Despite her young age and short stature, the girl looked rather intimidating; she had a thin but sharp sword in her left hand, a mischievous glint in her grey eyes, an almost feral grin on her lips and a direwolf waiting behind her.
"Where did you get that?" Elira demanded in a hushed voice. Arya whipped her head from side to side, making sure that no one was eavesdropping. She took the Manston's hand and pulled her inside the chambers, the door shutting behind her. No matter how often they fought, the Stark girls were not so different after all. Maybe that's why they fight so much.
"Tell me where you got the sword." Elle crossed her arms over her chest.
"A present!" Arya's eyes flashed with glee as she reached for the pouch in Elira's hand.
"Not until you tell me where you got the sword," Elle singsonged, spinning away from the young girl.
The Stark huffed a sigh. "You can't tell anyone." She slid the sword back into its scabbard and put it in her trunk.
"I promise."
"Jon gave it to me."
Gods, is he in trouble. "It's not a toy," Elira said instead.
"I know." Arya rolled her eyes. "Jon already told me to be careful."
Elle cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "And will you?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Stark retorted impatiently. She tapped her foot and watched Elle with wide eyes. "Can I have the present?" Elira let out a soft laugh and opened the bag. She found herself hesitating as she pulled out the toy dragon; the toy had been in her life for as long as she could remember, and it felt strange giving it up.
"I know you probably don't play with toys anymore, but I know how much you like dragons." She handed the toy to the girl. "He was mine. I've had him ever since I was small."
"He must be very special," Arya murmured, running her finger along the sewn silk scales on the dragon's back. "Thank you." She jumped into Elira's arms and hugged her tightly. "I'm going to miss you so much." Elle felt a tear slide down the back of her neck. She didn't bother wiping it away; instead, she wrapped her arms around Arya's waist and held her closer.
"I'll miss you too." She kissed the Stark girl's wet cheek, her own tears mingling with Arya's. "Keep practicing with your sword and your bow. Every day."
The Stark managed to bark out a laugh. "Jon already gave me this speech."
"Fine." Elle kissed the girl's cheek once more. "You've got a gift, little wolf. Don't let it go to waste."
"I won't. I promise."
Elira was surprise to find Lord Eddard alone in his study. She expected to find King Robert Baratheon with him, or at least Robb or his other children. The Lord of Winterfell looked up from his quill and parchment paper when he heard her push the door open.
"I'm sorry to intrude, my lord," she said politely, offering a small curtsey.
Ned cracked a smile. "Dear, enough with the formalities. Come in." She nodded sharply and sidestepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "What brings you here?"
"I just wanted to say goodbye to you," she admitted, wringing her hands together. The bag hung from her arm and bobbed up and down with every movement he made. Ned watched her with slight amusement. "And I wanted to say thank you." She took a seat across from him. "You've been so kind to me the whole time I was here. Your whole family, actually."
"You're family now, too, Elira," he responded, warmly covering his hand with hers. "You don't have to thank me for anything."
"I brought you something," she blurted out. "I-I mean, well, Bran and Rickon, too." She cleared her throat and tried to suppress her blush. "They were bored one day, so…" She shrugged. "I suggested they make something for you." She pulled two pieces of paper out of the bag and put them on Eddard's desk, side by side. Bran had painted the whole family as stick figures, lined up in the courtyard, huge smiles on their round faces. Rickon, who refused to draw, wrote in huge, messy letters: 'We'll miss you, Father! We love you!' He tried to write his name using the rest of the limited space, but he had to cut it off after the k. Elira and Robb had had to help Rickon with the spelling. The thought brought a smile to her face; maybe she wouldn't mind having children, after all.
Eddard smiled warmly, his eyes never leaving the papers. "Thank you." He ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Gods, I'm going to miss them. I can't believe I said yes."
"You'll see them soon, Ned." She squeezed his hand, which was still resting on top of hers. "You can come visit them here, or Robb and I can bring them down South."
"That's a month's trip," he reminded her sadly.
"We can meet somewhere in the middle."
Jon Snow was her last visit for the day. Saying goodbye to Sansa, Arya and Ned had been bad enough; she wasn't sure if she could say goodbye to him without breaking down in front of him. He'd become her closest friend in Winterfell, and she hated to see him go. She wanted to scream and cry and beg him to stay. But she had a part to play. She was Robb's wife; he was Lord of Winterfell now. She was the Lady of Winterfell, and she couldn't let her emotions get in the way.
She caught Jon just as he swung onto his horse. "Jon Snow!" she shouted, running up to him. "How dare you think you could leave without saying goodbye?" He grinned down at her and hopped off the horse. He scooped her into his arms and gave her a tight hug. "I can't believe you're going to North to rot at the Wall for the rest of your life," she said into his thick curls.
"I've heard this speech enough, thank you very much." He chuckled, kissing her on the cheek and setting her back on the ground. She roughly pushed him, making him stumble and lose his footing. He caught himself on his mount's saddle. "What was that for?"
"For giving Arya a sword!" she exclaimed. "What were you thinking? Jon, she's eleven!" She threw her hands in the air exasperatedly. "Gods be good, Jon, you weren't thinking! That's why she has a damned sword!"
"Elira, calm down!" He laughed, putting his hands on her shoulders. She instantly relaxed under his touch. He lowered his voice, the grin sliding right off his face. "I'm sorry if I upset you, but you know how dangerous it can be down South. I had to at least give her some form of protection."
She sighed and closed her eyes. "You're right. I just…I don't want to see her get hurt, that's all." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes flashed open, a wicked grin suddenly on her face. "You didn't think I was going to let you leave without a present, did you?"
"No, although I expected the confrontation." His smile returned. "I wouldn't have expected anything less from you." Elira laughed and shoved him again. "So, what is it?"
"What's what?"
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "The present!"
"Oh, right!" Her cheeks flushed as she held out the pouch. He gingerly took it from her hands and eyed her suspiciously. "Oh, come now, it won't bite," she teased. Actually…I take that back. But I'm not spoiling the surprise for him.
"Liar!" Jon snorted, as if reading her mind. He slipped the dagger out from its scabbard, the cold steel shining in the sunlight. He examined the hilt; sleek, smooth dark cherry red dragonbone. "I love it," he declared, slipping the dagger back into the scabbard. He attached it to his belt before enfolding Elira in another hug. "Thank you." He kissed the top of her head.
"I can't believe you're going," she breathed, clutching onto his cloak. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry…
"Come visit me after I take my vows." He soothingly ran his hands up and down her arms. "And we can go riding beyond the Wall," if you're not scared. His earlier parting words to Bran and Rickon this morning rang in her ears.
"Jon!" Benjen Stark called, bringing his horse to a trot as he neared the pair. "Come along; we've got a long journey ahead of us."
"Yes, of course." Jon nodded, pulling out of the embrace. He gave Elira an apologetic look before swinging himself up onto his horse. Benjen looked at her and slightly bowed his head as a sign of respect before he took off. It took her a moment to remember that she was the Lady of Winterfell now; she should get used to this behaviour. "Goodbye, Elira Manston."
"It's Stark now," she corrected. She managed a smile through the tears.
"Right, Stark." He smiled ruefully. "We'll meet again. I promise." With one final glance at her, he rode through and past the gates of Winterfell. Promises. That's what today was filled of. Empty, obligatory promises.
She stayed that way for awhile; just watching the now empty Kingsroad ahead of her. The tears froze on her face in the ever-cooling air. Sansa. Arya. Ned. Jon. They were all gone.
Goodbye Elira Manston…we'll meet again…I promise…
"Goodbye, Jon Snow," she whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of the howling wind. You seem to forget that you're a Stark, too…not in name, but in blood. You'll always be a Stark to me, Jon.