"It's about time you showed up."

Lyarra looked at the circle of stoic-faced weirwoods, bleeding bright red sap from their lifeless eyes. Their white wood seemed to shine in the sunset.

"You gave us dubious directions good mother," Rickard spoke from behind.

Lyarra's mother, Arya Stark, sat within the circle of trees; a bowl filled with red sap before her. She wore green robes the color of the grass she sat on while her hair, grey with streaks of red remaining of her youth, matched the trees all around them.

"Bring the boy here." Her mother commanded impatiently.

Lyarra held Ned closer to her. "This was a mistake."

"Lyarra!"

She had wanted to turn back then, mount her horse and ride through the Wolfwood back to Winterfell. She wanted to lock herself away with her son, keep him away from the world. From her mother's green dreams, and her husband's southron ones. She wanted to keep her boy far away from the whims of others.

"It's all right, Lya." Rodrik Stark offered in a calming voice. "Nothing will befall him."

"Do you think I would hurt him?" Arya scoffed. "The boy is my grandson. I'll cut any man who harms a hair on his head. I only wanted to see if he had magic as your husband claimed. Now bring him here."

"Wake up!"

Perhaps Lyarra had taken comfort in the words. At that moment, she stepped forward, her son in her hands. She sat in front of Arya Stark, keeping her hands on her son's shoulder while her mother applied weirsap to his face, drawing red ruins of the First Men. Arya Stark then lightly held his head, closing her eyes, and looked to see if her grandson had magic.

Her eyes opened just as soon she'd closed them, standing up in alarm.

"What happened?"

Arya Stark didn't answer, a look of horror on her face. She then fell to her knees, puking on the grass, before clutching her head in pain.

"Lyarra!"

Lyarra looked to her son, turning him to face her. She gasped as the red sap burned off his face. And there, for a moment, all she could see was a skull with blood-red eyes.

"Lyarra!"

She awoke to her mother standing over her. Her hair had lost the red streaks running through it, now being entirely grey despite only a year having passed.

"The same dream?" Her mother inquired.

"It's the only dream I seem to have," Lyarra uttered, her throat dry.

"I have told a hundred times by now," Arya Stark shook her head. "A pinch of sweetsleep will hold your night terrors at bay."

"I thought I did, Maester Walys gave me the drink." Lyarra offered softly, glancing at the water cup beside her bed.

Her mother shook her head, eyes narrowing. "You are careless Lyarra."

Taking the cup, her mother walked to the windows before spilling the sweetwater out.

"A pinch of sweetsleep will give you a dreamless night," Her mother cautioned. "But if one of your children had drank it, they would settle to sleep from which they wouldn't have woken."

Lyarra scanned at the cradle by the bed for her babe of four months.

"I had Old Nan take Lyanna to the wet nurse."

She frowned, turning to look at her mother. "To Barba?"

"I sent her to Mara."

She took to her feet at the words, discarding her night shift. Ignoring the dress her maids had laid out for her, she wore her britches and leather doublet.

"May I ask where you're going?"

Lyarra ignored her, as she began looking for her sword belt.

"Barba was running out of milk, Mara had..."

"Mara is a woods witch." Lyarra fumed, her blood running hot, wolfsblood as her father called it.

"Yes, a woods witch who happens to have had a child when you did." Her mother raised her brow.

"I have told you before, I don't want Lyanna anywhere that witch."

Finding her sword belt, Lyarra began fastening it to her waist. She then turned and began looking for her sword.

"That witch saved your life," Her mother asserted simply. "She healed you when you took to fever after you gave birth. Never knew you to be an ingrate."

"I prayed to the Old Gods, and I am grateful they answered my prayers," Lyarra maintained.

Rickard and her mother had filled the castle with hedge wizards and witches from all across the north after Ned's... incident.

"Mara is a good woman, Lya."

"I will not stand for you and Rickard's schemes mother!"

Her mother looked confused. "Our schemes?"

"Lyanna was born after the return of magic, just like Ned. Have you two learned nothing after what happened last year?!" Lyarra screamed. "Well, I won't allow it. I won't let my children become vile sorcerers."

The sword. Lyarra searched through her chests, leaving nothing unturned.

"Your own mother awakened her mind eye after the return of magic." Her mother said. "Do you consider me a vile sorcerer too?"

"You and my husband both!" Lyarra spits out bitterly.

Her mother only sighed. "There is no such scheme."

Not finding the sword in her chest, she turned to look through the wardrobe.

"What are you looking for?" Her mother asked.

"My sword!" Lyarra screamed. "Was that a part of your scheme then? Where did you put my sword?!"

Her mother raised a brow at that. "Take your sword? I am the one who gave it to you, remember?"

"Then where is it?"

"Exactly where you left it," Her mother pointed to the hearth of her chambers where the sword was hanging on the wall in its sheath.

Oh.

Lyarra opened and closed her mouth. Trying to think of something to say.

"Oh."

Her mother only seemed amused by it all. As if it was one great joke to her.

"It's a great trick, isn't it? [Camouflage]" Arya Stark raised her hand, the sword disappeared. Lowering her hand, the sword appeared again.

Lyarra's fury returned, walking over to the hearth, she took the sword and began placing it on her belt.

She looked up to see a smug smile on her mother's face.

Lyarra crossed her arm and looked at her mother pointedly. "Did one of the hedge wizards teach that one?"

"No," Her mother smiled. "That one I found in the Old Archives under Winterfell. Tier One Spell, Camouflage."

"Oh sorry," Lyarra rolled her eyes. "My mistake."

"Oh, come one, Lya! Where is your sense of wonder? Aren't you at least a little curious, it's magic!" Her mother, six and forty namedays, was shaking with excitement.

"No."

"How about this then?"

Her mother picked up a traveling waterskin by the hearth, opening its cap, she held out her hand in front of it.

"[Create Water]"

Lyarra looked on unimpressed, as a magic circle appeared in front of her mother's hand. Water came out of the circle and filled the water.

"What is the point of such an illusion? The water doesn't exist." Lyarra drawled.

"Illusion?" Her mother laughed. "This is a different spell, called Create Water. The other spell was an illusion, this one isn't."

Her mother handed her the now full skin. "See it for yourself."

Lyarra raised the waterskin to her mouth, eyes widening when water entered her mouth where she had expected nothing but air.

"It tastes sweet."

Arya smiled. "The only flaw in the spell from what I can tell."

"Create Water," Lyarra mouthed. "Are the words Valyrian?"

"The book I read said that it was the ancient tongue!" Her mother said excitedly. "That the Others brought over from their world of Yggdrasil."

"So you don't know the answer," Lyarra concluded. "Your only explanation being a fairytale."

"Fairytale?" Her mother jeered. "Rickard and I found the book in the deepest part of the crypt. It is as old as Winterfell itself."

Lyarra rolled her eyes. "Yes, very impressive mother."

She sat at the end of the bed and began putting on her boots.

"Where are you going, getting dressed for battle?" Her mother asked.

Lyarra stopped, looking up, that had been the second her mother had asked.

"Are you trying to keep me here?"

"Keep you here?" Her mother asked, trying to seem clueless.

"Let me ask another question then." Lyarra narrowed her eyes, her voice sharp. "Why do you want to keep me here?"

"Do you find a plot in every talk, daughter of mine?"

Lyarra stood up, making for the door. Opening it, she found blue eyes staring at her.

"Tomard."

"Lady Stark," He lowers his head in a bow.

Anger begins building up in Lyarra's veins at the sight of the household guard. He was the youngest in the guard, at only nine and ten.

"Did your master order you to confine me to my chambers?" Lyarra seethed.

Tomard seemed alarmed at that. "No, my Lady!"

"Then why did Rickard post you across from my chamber door then?" She asked.

"It was to protect you, milady."

"Protect me? From what."

"Treason milady," Tom responded. "There was a traitor. They arrested him in the night."

"Who?" Lyarra bid. "Name the traitor to me."

"It was Maester Walys, milady."

She had expected a spy, some lowborn servant caught sneaking around and listening in or stealing some document. Maester Walys was... she mistrusted the man to be sure, with the way he was always at Rickard's side whispering like a long-nose girl.

But he had been in Winterfell for as long as she could remember, serving Lord Edwyle before he served her husband. The man had even birthed her three children.

"Is this what you were keeping from me?" Lyarra looked at back her mother's face closely. Trying to see any sign of deceit.

Her mother merely smiled. "Mayhaps it was a good thing you didn't take that sweet sleep then, isn't it?"

AN: Shorter chapter today. I actually split the original CH4 into 2 parts because I was only happy with the beginning part of it and in the end ended up making the decision to split it. CH5 will be finished soon since I am just gonna keep editing it until I'm happy. So very soon. maybe. hopefully.