The Land Beyond The Wall

Lysara Stark

"It's alright..." Lysara murmured, wiping the tears away from Dalla's face as she stared down at the crying woman. "It's alright..."

In truth, she did not know if anything would be alright after the battle at Castle Black. It was a beautiful lie she kept telling the woman instead of the ugly truth. The battle was raging on at Castle Black and she was left alone with pregnant and old women along with children in the woods. The children were crying, cold and afraid as were some of the women that were huddling together in the outskirts of the woods. Lysara was unsure of where Daramyr went but she was not worried about him like she was worried for Dalla. The Queen Beyond The Wall was suffering from severe pain and she tried to bring the woman what little comfort she could offer as Val, had disappeared and Mance was fighting at the Wall.

"R'hllor," Lysara begins, clutching her necklace. Her voice was quiet above the terror as she holds Dalla's hand as she moans in pain once more. "The night is dark and filled with such terror. My faith in you has never wavered, my Lord. Fill our hearts with your fire, so that we may walk in your light once more. R'hllor who gives us the gift of life, I thank you. R'hllor who gave us day and takes the darkness away, I thank you. I thank you for casting the terrors and shadows away, I pray that you will bring back the light of day once more."

"It's a beautiful prayer t-that..." The woman said hoarsely, her breathing laboured as she tries to breathe through the pain. "You reckon it'd protect my Mance and sister?"

"It will," She confirms, tucking a strand of hair behind the woman's air as she lets go of her necklace. "Your husband and sister will survive the battle against the crows."

As she stared down at the woman in concern, watching as the woman let out another soft moan from the pain, Ghost stalked towards them causing Dalla to stiffen at her side as the direwolf walked through the knee deep snow towards them. The blood red eyes of Jon's white direwolf met Dalla's panicked blue, which made Ghost still and the direwolf cocked his head to the side, sniffing deeply before he came closer towards them. Dalla's grip on her right hand tightened and she threw her arm over the swell of her belly, eyeing Ghost with wariness and fear as he huffed at them.

"It's alright," Lysara said calmly, waving Ghost over towards them. "This is Ghost. He is Jon Snow's direwolf. I have known him since he was a pup. I helped give birth to him."

"You gave birth to a direwolf?" Dalla slurred, her brows furrowing in confusion causing Lysara to let out a short laugh. "You're his mother? The stories about you Stark's giving birth to wolf pups instead of babes are true. My mother and father always told me not to talk such shite but...but I knew it. The blood of wolves runs through your veins. It is said that the first Stark was born from a wolf during a long winter. I was certain of it especially when I saw you and those crows...Benjen and Jon."

"No. I was in the woods when I came across his mother," She explained. "I helped her through the birth but she died anyway. I have known Ghost since his birth."

"He's white as winter," The woman murmurs, clutching her stomach. "Jon Snow...That crow has paid us many a visit...but how come I've never seen 'is direwolf before?"

Lysara stroked Ghost's soft and white fur with the back of her hand as his large head settled was resting across her lap, his red eyes staring at her intensely. Dalla looked to her hesitantly as she began to reach out a shaking hand towards the direwolf for him to smell. Ghost's eyes landed on the woman once more, he leans forward and sniffed her for a moment or so before he turned his attention back to her, uncaring for the woman as she began to stroke his back with the tips of her fingers.

"Y-You remind me of my mother," Dalla says, letting go of her hand and reaches up to cup her cheek. "You're warm. My mother was always so warm. My-"

The woman let out a loud gasp, causing her to look sharply back to the woman. The blonde haired woman had grown pale, paler than she ever has been in the short time that she has known the heavily pregnant woman. Even the blood red lips the woman possessed were pale and held little colour. A bead of sweat was present on her forehead and her hands began to grow clammy as the hand slides from her cheek as she grips her belly with both hands and throws her head back, letting out a heavy moan.

"What is it?" Lysara demanded. "What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know!" Dalla cried hoarsely. "I think somethin' is wrong with me!"

Lysara roused Ghost from her lap and hurriedly pulled back the furs that were covering Dalla, revealing that the woman was bleeding heavily between her legs. The snow and furs had turned crimson from her blood. The blonde woman lay her head back, letting out another hoarse cry as she began to pant and breath, though it seemed she was putting effort into her breathing. She watched with a wary expression as Dalla seemed to lose her vision. The woman focused on her face, blinking rapidly before she began to look around vigorously as if she was searching for her sight that did not return to her. A few woman who had heard Dalla's cries were approaching with worried expressions.

"You know I'm dying, don't you?" The woman asked weakly, letting her head rest against the furs. "I can see it in your face, fire bird."

"You are not going to die," She responds firmly. "I will not let that happen."

"If it does," Dalla insists, her voice hoarse as tears filled her eyes. "I don't want to be brought back."

"You do not have a choice-"

"I do," The blue eyed woman said fiercely. "If you can bring back the dead, I do not want to be brought back."

"You will be fine, Dalla," Lysara assures her. "You need to rest. We have been travelling for miles through the cold, darkness and snow. It will have exhausted you."

"Promise me..." The woman whispers, bringing her closer. "No matter what happens, I want my babe to survive. I don't want to be saved. If I am to die, I want my babe to live."

"I will..." She trails off but the woman grips her tighter, looking at her with a wildness.

"If the crows get him, they will kill him, fire bird. They will kill us. You and I both know this," Dalla said frantically, fear present in her eyes as she grasps at her shoulders with what little strength she had left and let her nails dig into her shoulders, her blunt nails were digging painfully into her pale skin, no doubt drawing blood but she finds herself uncaring for it as she stares down at the woman. "You have to protect them. If my babe is a boy, I want you to give him a noble name like those Lords of yours, a name fit for a Prince. Promise me, Lysara of House Stark. Promise me. Promise me, Lysara. I want you to promise me."

"I promise," Lysara swears. "I will protect him from this night and for all the nights to come."

"Thank you, Lysara..." Dalla murmurs, the fear leaving her eyes as they steadily close and her grip slackening. "Thank you..."

The woman struggled for a moment or so, swallowing every so often before she sucked in a short and shaky breath before it looked as if she had stopped breathing. Lysara placed the back of her hand near the woman's mouth and she knew that these were the last breaths that the woman would take and if she was to save the child's life, she knew that she must act with haste. You know what you must do, Ghost seemed to say to her as he stared at her and nudged her twice, rousing her to her feet, snapping her out of the trance Dalla held on her.

"Dalla!" A woman screamed, causing her to turn and face Val, who was running towards them. "Dalla!"

Lysara drew out a small dagger from the sleeve of her brown dress and eyed it with intent before letting her eyes trail towards Dalla. Val hurriedly approached, throwing herself to the ground next to her sister as she wept while trying to rouse her awake but to no avail, Dalla was no longer in this world. Lysara knelt once more, bringing her dagger towards Dalla but Val grasped her wrist tightly, viciously snarling at her as she stared at her wildly with tears in her eyes. Ghost growled low towards the blonde haired woman, his teeth gnashing together as his hackles rose but she hushed him.

"I need to," Lysara said, her voice barely a whisper. "I cannot save your sister but I can save her son. You have to let her go."

"That's my sister!" The woman wept, tears falling from her eyes as she brushed the hair away from her sister's face. "Come on, Dalla...Wake up...Wake up...You cannot leave me!"

Lysara winced at the woman's words but nevertheless she began to cut into the fabric softly, pulling it away from her skin and through the cut bits of material aside until she exposed the woman's round belly. She lay her hand against the swell, tenderly caressing the bump with her thumb before she turned to face Val and Willa, a young Wildling girl. Lysara could feel a crowd of woman and children gathering around them, some were frantically whispering amongst themselves while others were shouting and weeping.

"I need furs," Lysara said, staring down at the woman. "I need clean furs or clothing. Anything. As long as it is warm and clean."

"What else?" Val demanded but Lysara's brows furrowed as she stared on at the woman in confliction. "What else?"

"I need you to leave," She tells her. "You will not like what I must do nor do I want you to witness it..."

"I won't leave her!" Val screeches, crying as she shouts. "You can not-"

"Leave," Lysara said coldly.

The woman was brought to her feet by several women as she kicked, screamed and cried as they took her away from her sister. Lysara stared down at Dalla, her thoughts and heart racing as she tried to think through panic. Her eyes flickered up and she vigorously looked around, noticing mother whisking her children away and averting her eyes but a few of the older woman stayed and woman unclasped her cloak and laid it beside her while another gathered snow. Lysara took the snow in her hand, thanking the old woman briefly before she cleaned her skin with the fresh snow before she held the dagger to her stomach, letting out a shuddering breath.

Promise me, Lysara.

"I promise..." Lysara murmured before looking up to address the woman that was kneeling next to her. "Are you a healer?"

"We don't 'ave healers," The woman said, her dark brows furrowing in thought. "We need to save Mance and Dalla's heir. How do we do that?"

"I need to-" She stills, her grip tightening on the dagger. "I want you to ready the furs."

Lysara fell silent, staring at Dalla's belly. She was not sure of where exactly she could cut nor was she sure how deep to cut without harming the babe. Guide me, she prayed. Lysara raised the dagger thrice and at some point she nicked the woman's skin but each time she backed away, unable to stop her hands from shaking and her hands from shaking. Lysara clenched her fists and let her eyes flutter close, willing something inside of her to emerge.

It was the same will she had that allowed her to confront Jaime Lannister despite knowing that he may have killed her, it was the same will that allowed her to kill that Wildling and the same will that allowed her and her siblings to escape from Winterfell with their lives. The same will that let her murder the Ironborn soldier. Lysara's eyes reopened and this time, she let the dagger touch Dalla's skin with a steadier hand. Another woman knelt in the snow next to her, carrying a skin of wine.

Lysara dug the dagger in slowly, her eyes focused intently on Dalla as she watched for a sign that the woman might awaken and feel it. The woman continued to bleed heavily as she turned a deathly grey. She began to cut deeper into the woman, letting the woman next to her wipe away any blood. Lysara made the wound the deep, cutting into the woman's belly with great care and firmness. The wound did not bleed as much as the bleeding between the woman's legs and when she dug in deeper, a clear fluid began to leak from the wound. The women that were helping were cleaning the bleeding wound with cloth and furs and a woman was ready with rabbit furs for the babe. As the wound was deep enough, she began to gently feel for the babe.

"Careful," A woman, standing above them warned. "The babe could die from the cold. I've seen it happen."

"You don't need to worry about that," The old woman next to her retorted. "The girl is like a fire."

"I-I can feel something," Lysara muttered.

It was not an arm nor leg she felt but it was the babe's back. Lysara carefully grasped the babe, taking a hold of him before she slowly pulled the babe from Dalla's belly. In that moment, the woman drew her final breath as her chest no longer was rising nor falling. Lysara knew from her experience with the pups, babes were delicate creatures and she was careful not to move the babe to harshly. Her breath was laboured and as she pulled the babe from the woman, piercing screams were heard.

"By R'hllor!" She breathed, her voice wavering.

Her bottom lip trembled as she felt tears fill her eyes but she hurriedly blinked them away to see the babe better. The babe was beetroot red and covered in blood. The tiny thing had a screwed up face and kicked and squealed as she held him. A third woman took a dagger and cut the rope of flesh that had tied the babe to its mother. Lysara cradled the babe in her arms, letting the woman with the rabbit furs bundle him in her arms as he kicked and squealed, letting everyone know of his presence. Promise me, Lysara, the woman whispered to her as she stared down at the babe. The babe had the dark locks of Mance but had his mother's features. The babe remained oblivious to the fact that his mother was dead. The brown haired babe began to quieten down, exhausted and settled in her protective embrace.

"A boy!" A woman exclaimed, rising to her feet. "It's a boy!"

"It's a monster!" A voice hissed, causing her to still and she looked over her shoulder to see a venomous Val. "That thing killed my sister."

Lysara watched as the teary eyed Val stumbled to her knees and began to cry but she found herself uncaring for the woman as she turned to face the small babe, she adjusted the soft pelts around the boy, tucking them underneath his chin as she wrapped herself in her own furs. Ghost sat next to her, throwing his head back and howled a long and mournful song about the son of Mance Rayder. A small but sad smile appeared on her face as she held the babe, letting woman gather around them but all she could think about was Dalla. Thank you, Lysara, the wind that picked up seemed to whisper.

"What shall be his name?" Lysara inquired, looking up to the woman. "What will Mance name him?"

"You can't name him," The old woman tells her. "It's bad luck to name a child early. It has to witness the world first."

"You can give him a milk name," The other woman offered. "It's a title of sorts."

"Hello," Lysara murmured, caressing the boy's cheek with the back of her hand as she cradled him. "Wild Wolf."

Promise me, Lysara. Promise me.

Winterfell

Young Griff

The entirety of Winterfell was covered in darkness and dread, there was no light from the moon and no star danced in the night's sky. It was a lifeless night. With a sword in his right hand, Aegon reached up with his left and pulled back the hood of his fur cloak revealing his face covered in blood from the guards. His silver blonde hair lightly touched his shoulder as he manoeuvred down the hall with Ser Jon, gripping his sword tighter.

Young Griff could hear and feel his racing heart as he travelled quietly through the halls, swift as a shadow. In his time, looking over maps and eyeing Winterfell with care, he and his ten men he had brought into Winterfell had managed to find their way about with haste. The rest of his men were present outside, waiting for a battle that could ensue.

All Aegon could think of was who Ramsay Bolton was and what the bastard had done and anger coursed through his veins, he felt as if he was on fire and had only one intention in mind. But he was able to remain calm as they reached the supposed door to Ramsay Bolton's chambers. He wanted to kick it down and slit the man's throat but he would not. The man deserved to suffer. His champion was fire and the man would meet a Targaryen death. The guard who was leading them through Winterfell started to struggle, letting out a muffled cry but Ser William raised the knife to the guard's throat, slitting it and let the man drop to the stone ground with a sickening thud.

He opened the door slowly, grimacing as he prepared to hear a groan or creak but when he heard nothing, his heart began to slow. The chambers were dark but a few candles were lit, flickering in the darkness. The candles provided light for him to see to sleeping forms. Aegon shared a glance with Ser Jon before he approached the sleeping figures, his shadow that loomed over them seemed to stir the dark haired whore that was lying next to Ramsay in bed.

Young Griff looked down at the sleeping woman who laid naked in bed with Lord Ramsay. He let out a small snort and that seemed to wake the woman up as her brown eyes opened and her mouth parted as if to scream but he silenced her by sticking the point of his sword into her throat. The woman fell silent, red covering her and he could hear her gurgling and gasping for breath before she fell silent.

Injustice with justice, Aegon thought to himself.

Young Griff's downcast eyes travelled over to dark haired man, even in his sleep, the man had a deranged smile on his lips. It made him feel disgusted, knowing what he has done to innocent girls. He had heard the stories and the rumours and knew that they were true. It was when he pressed his sword to Ramsay Bolton's neck did the bastard of Dreadfort open his manic blue eyes. Any other man would plead for their life or cry out in outrage but not Ramsay. The man merely lifted a brow and smirked, letting out a cruel laugh as he stared up at him with madness dancing in his eyes. If he had ever known his grandfather, he knew that they would share this mad gleam that brought a chill to him. It felt as if a finger was trailing down his back.

"You do have balls!" Ramsay exclaimed, his lips curling into a grin as he showed his pale pink gums and sharp teeth. "I never thought you'd be one to break a promise, dragon spawn!"

"I lied," Aegon said simply, pressing the sword even harder into his skin, drawing blood from his neck. "You honestly think I was going to risk the lives of my men?"

"You can't kill me," The man responds, causing Aegon to scoff. "I know something about you, Aegon Targaryen! I know something about your family! I know a dark secret! I can give you something you desire! Please...If you let me go, unharmed, of course, I will tell you. You can kill my men. You can kill every other person in this castle if you so wish but if you let me leave with my life, I will tell you what you want to know!"

"What could I possibly desire from the likes of you?" Young Griff asked, a smirk appearing on his face at the man's pleading.

"You have a brother!"

At this admission, this causes Aegon to stiffen and his smirk to fade from his face. The tight grip he had on his sword, that made his knuckles turn white, slackens as he stares at the wide eyed man. A brother? Aegon thinks, his brows furrowing in confusion as he stares at Lord Ramsay. He only had a little sister, Rhaenys and she was no longer in this world. Like his mother, she was butchered. Like his mother, his sister was unjustly murdered. He had no other brothers and sisters. He had no other siblings. The look in the cruel man's eyes made him think otherwise as he stared on in silence at the man. If the man was lying, it would be the cruellest of jests. A dragon alone in the world, many had murmured. It is truly a terrible tale. A dragon must have three head.

"What?" Aegon questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You cannot trust him!" Ser Jon spits.

"What if...What if he is telling the truth?" He murmured. "What if-"

"You cannot trust a fucking word that comes out of his cunt mouth, boy!" Lord Umber boomed. "You can't trust him!"

"Tell me," Aegon demands, ignoring both Ser Jon and Lord Umber. "I want to know."

"I found one of noble Ned's secrets," Ramsay smirked. "You cannot honestly think I will tell you anything with a sword pointed at my throat?"

"Alright...If you tell me, I will grant you freedom..." He began, drawing back his sword. "If you value your life, you will tell me. Now."

"You know...bastards rise high in the North," The bastard of Dreadfort laughed but Aegon placed his sword back to Ramsay's neck.

"Do not speak in riddles!" Aegon spits, his temper flaring as he glares at Ramsay. "Who is he? Where is he?"

"Your brother's name is-"

Ramsay falls silent for a moment or so before his lips curl once more and as he opens his mouth to speak, a sword is driven into the bastard's chest. The bastard of Dreadfort lets out a hoarse laugh as Aegon stiffens and he turns angrily to face Ser Jon, who removes his sword from Ramsay and sheathes it into his leather belt. The ageing man's face is calm but his eyes told a different story, his eyes held confliction and fear before Jon Connington's eyes met his fiery violet.

"His life was not yours to take!" He hisses, staring at Ser Jon.

"The man was full of riddles and rhymes. He was messing with your head, boy. I have witnessed more of the world than you ever have. I know men like him. You could never have trusted his word," Ser Jon states solemnly, shaking his head. "You wish to rid the world of evil...Yet, you were about to release evil and let that roam free in Westeros. If you did so, how many more women and girls would he rape? How many more innocent men would he flay and slaughter? You will be King soon...what will you do when a crown is placed upon your head?"

"It is my birthright and I will do what a King is born to do," Aegon replied fiercely. "I will rule."

Aegon stared at Ser Jon for a moment or so, before he stormed out of the chambers, his cloak whipping wildly behind him as he marched down the hall. His mind was conflicted as he thought on what Ramsay Bolton admitted to him. Young Griff wanted to deny it, he wanted to let his words fall on deaf ears but he could not. All his life he had been alone with nothing but the sea to sail and the skies above him.

He spent the entirety of his childhood, hiding, living on the dreams of Jon Connington and the schemes of Lord Varys. All his life was spent sailing the seas, always fearful for his life, never knowing when they would somehow be discovered. He was alone and friendless. His mother and father were dead. His sister was dead. His birthright was taken from him. Young Griff knew of his uncle and aunt, Viserys and Daenerys along with his uncles, Prince Doran and Oberyn Martell along with cousins. Yet he cared little for them. It brought an ache to his chest as he never felt more alone than he had as he walked along the cold halls of Winterfell.

"A brother..." Aegon murmurs, his brows furrowing as his thoughts began to churn.

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you like this chapter! I would like to thank all of you for taking the time to read this story, for making this one of your favourites and for also following it. I would like to give massive thanks to everyone that has left a review. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and the next update should be up very soon!

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter!

ATP: Thank you!

RHatch89: Thanks!

Saint River: I'm glad you liked the theme of chapter twenty three and I hope you liked this chapter. I always liked calling the females of House Stark, she wolves of Winterfell. Lysara will gain her red clothing again when she is taken to the Wall and comes across a certain red woman. Stannis, Davos and Melisandre will be introduced in the next chapter. In a way, Lysara did care for Sweet Robin as with her character, she always tends to favour the lonely, the innocent or the outcasts as she can relate to them.

Arianna Le Fay: No, I can safely say she won't be with Daramyr!

celticank: Thank you! You will find a few more things about the phoenix soon!

Guest: I hope you like this update!

Guest 2: I cannot say much about the origin and myth of the phoenix yet without giving a bit of the plot away but it will be revealed in the next couple of chapters. Stannis will appear in the next chapter with Davos and Melisandre.

azphxbrd: Thank you! It means a lot to me that you like this story. As for Young Griff/Aegon, I have written him to have a strong will and mind with a moral compass that can waver when his emotions get a grip on him. For most of his life, it has been Jon Connington calling the shots and leading the sieges but now that people are starting to look at Aegon as a ruler that is when responsibility will be thrust upon him. He is still young and is not experienced like most rulers so most of his pov's will be his confliction.