So this story has been in my drafts for like two years. It's been on my mind recently, so I'm going with it. My muse seems to want me to finish it so here I go. I'm working on the next parts to other stories as well, but this one won't leave me alone. There will be a bit of jumping around for a few chapters, the future events will always take place at the beginning of the chapter in italics. I'll try to remember to put the note at the top of the chapter where the main story catches up.
Disclaimer: As always, I don't own anything you recognize
Also, this is a GOT fic so of course it's going to be graphic. If you can't handle graphic...why are you here?
"Mother, you can't do this!"
"It's my only choice, Lyra. You want your sisters back, don't you?"
"Of course, but how do you know they'll hold up their end of the bargain? You're giving them the Kingslayer and then you think they'll just give up Sansa and Arya? What reason will they have to do as you ask once they have him back?"
"All we can do is hope. He's our only chance at getting your sisters back safely."
Lyra stops her mother, turning her back to the Lady Knight Brienne and Jaime Lannister where they're standing by the horses. "Robb's not going to approve of this. You know he'll send men after them, alert every ally we have from here to King's Landing and have them looking. And what do you think he'll do to you when he finds out you're the one who let him go?"
"I can handle Robb. He is my son, just as you are my daughter. I know what I'm doing."
"You have too much faith in them. Just like Father-" Lyra's words are cut off as chains wrap around her neck, pulling her back a step from her mother.
Brienne has her sword drawn instantly, pointing it at the Kingslayer but he's already a step ahead of her.
"Don't even think about it. I'd hate to snap this pretty little neck." His breath fans over Lyra's ear, the stench of him making her stomach churn, but she's more concerned about the steel chains blocking her airway, her fingers trying to find a way between them and her skin.
"Let her go." Catelyn Stark says, pushing her fear down.
"I don't think so. You see, everyone has had their chance to make their bargains but no one's given me a chance to make mine."
"You don't get to make bargains, Kingslayer." Brienne says.
"What do you want?" Catelyn asks.
"My request is simple really. She comes with us." He motions to Lyra with his head.
"No. She's not a part of this."
"I don't think you really understand the position you're in. Either she comes with us, or, well, you've already seen what I can do with these chains." He tightens the chains around Lyra's neck just slightly, earning a choked gasp from the girl. "You have to see my reasoning. You're sending me with some unknown woman to King's Landing to trade me for your daughters and then this unknown woman is supposed to escort them back to you. But how do you know your daughters will trust this person whom they've never met nor heard of? We take little...Lyra was it? We take Lyra with us, make the trade off: me for your daughters, and then Lyra returns home with her sisters and this woman who is going to escort them back whom your other daughters know they can trust judging from their sister's word." Jaime watches Catelyn Stark's face, seeing the confliction in it even in the low light from the moon overhead.
"I'll do it." Lyra chokes out, Jaime loosening the chains a hair. "I'll do it. I'll go."
"Lyra…"
"I'll come back with them, mother. I promise."
Catelyn hesitates a moment more before nodding. "Fine. She'll go with you."
Jaime grins, releasing his grip on Lyra. He keeps her from falling as she gasps air back into her lungs. "Well then, let's get off before someone notices us, shall we?"
Brienne gives him a dark look as he steers Lyra over to a horse. Lyra climbs on before Jaime hoists himself up behind her. He slips his chained hands over her head, gripping the saddle horn in front of her as she holds the reins. Brienne puts a cloth bag over his head so he can't see.
Catelyn approaches Brienne, speaking quietly. "Keep her safe."
Brienne nods. "I will. I swear I will let nothing harm her."
Catelyn nods, moving to her daughter's horse, squeezing her hand. She can't think of anything to say, but Lyra understands. She watches as they make their way away from camp, slipping past the guards. She knows Robb will be angry with her, furious even. She knows Robb will do anything to get the Kingslayer back, get his sister back. She knows she's made a mistake in letting Lyra go with them. She can feel it, deep in her stomach as she watches the spot where they've disappeared into the darkness. She knows she's made a mistake, but she can't help but have hope as well. Perhaps finally things will begin working in their favor.
The sun is coming up over the hills, bringing the first light of the day. It's a cool morning, colder than the mornings had been recently. The grass is wet with dew glimmering in the sunlight while a heavy mist sits above it in the sky. By mid morning the mist would descend, blocking out the sun for the rest of the day. That's the reason everyone thinks the North is so dismal and grey. Not that it isn't, but few ever get to see the beauty of it lit up in the morning before the sky turns grey and the sun disappears.
Lyra hears the hoofbeats approaching but she doesn't bother moving from her spot on the grass. Her backside was wet from the grass but she doesn't care. Her horse is grazing off to her left, glancing up passively as the rider approaches before going back to eating. The horse stops a few feet from her, the rider dismounting. She doesn't bother looking back, watching the sun as it makes its way above the horizon.
"Everyone always talks about how dull the North is. How plain and bleak and cold it is. But no one ever bothers to look for the beauty in it." She says, keeping her eyes forward.
"It is beautiful." The feet move closer to her, almost beside her now. "But your mother wants you back now."
Lyra sighs, finally looking up at the captain of the guard. "Then I suppose I should return then."
He smiles down at her, offering her a gloved hand. She slips her hand in his, letting him help her up. He uses his grip on her hand to pull her closer, just a few inches from him. "Sometimes I'm worried she knows."
Lyra cups Jory's cheek. "If she knew she wouldn't send you." She lifts herself onto her toes, pressing her lips to his. "She sends you because she trusts you." She feels him grin as he pulls her back in, kissing her harder this time. His free hand is warm against her back, pressing their bodies together. If only her mother knew what they did when they were free from prying eyes. Lyra pulls away after a few moments, looking up at him. "She also sends you because you're the only one who can get me back before breakfast is over."
She steps away from him, whistling for her horse. Jory watches her from behind, her hair blowing in the morning Northern breeze. It's a dark auburn color, the same as her brother's. In the right light it looked dark brown, but in the sun or in the light of a fire it shined red. She preferred to keep it long, flowing down her back in thick curls. Her eyes are deep blue, shining like the sea. He could stare at them for hours, get lost and drown in them just as easily. Her skin is pale and beautiful like ivory and soft as silk. He's playing a dangerous game, getting himself caught in a risky trap but he can't help himself.
Lyra is the most beautiful woman in the North, arguably in the whole Seven Kingdoms. She knows it and every Lord with an eligible son knows it too. If her father had been any other lord she would have been married the moment she turned 16. But it had been over a year since then and she still showed no interest in marrying, no interest in leaving Winterfell. Jory knows what they have between them won't last. Someday she'll get married, bear the children of some Northern or even Southern lord. He'll remain dutifully by her father's side, bearing nothing more than the memory of what they shared.
"Are you going to stand there sulking all day or are you going to escort me back to Winterfell?"
Lyra's voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up at her, already seated on her horse. He grins, mounting his own horse. "Of course, my lady."
She gives him a playful glare. "Don't call me that. I'll race you!" She doesn't even wait for his agreement before she's already kicked her horse into a gallop, racing across the hills towards Winterfell.
Jory shakes his head, watching her for a moment before following after her, riding at a gallop all the way back to Winterfell. They both drop their horses off with a stable boy before making their way to the hall for breakfast. They would just barely make it on time, Jory keeping himself a respectable distance behind her as they enter. Everyone else is already gathered at the table, food already set out. Lyra makes her way to the empty spot beside Robb, Jory taking his seat down the table by his Uncle Rodrick's side.
"And where have you been?" Eddard Stark asks his oldest daughter as she takes her seat.
"I went for a ride to watch the sun rise."
"You know I don't like you going out there alone."
"You know I can take care of myself, Father."
"I know. Take someone with you next time."
She nods. "Yes, Father."
Robb nudges her as the attention at the table is drawn away from her. Lyra looks up at him, at his knowing look. He's the only one in Winterfell who knows about her and Jory. The only one who knows about her crush and the only one who knew she had acted on it. She shakes her head at him, turning to her plate as she adds food to it, oblivious to the eyes watching them in their silent conversation.
They'd always been able to do it, seeming to understand each other without having to say anything. Their mother had told them once, when they were born, Robb wouldn't stop screaming until Lyra was placed next to him. As soon as they were separated again they would scream. They were closer to each other than any of their other siblings, even Robb and Jon not having a bond quite like the twins. Part of her hesitation of leaving Winterfell was leaving Robb. They hadn't been more than a few miles apart from each other before, and the idea of leaving for good made Lyra feel sick to her stomach.
"Two more proposals came in this morning." Ned tells Catelyn as they walk towards the training grounds.
"From whom?"
"Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge and Randyll Tarly from Horn Hill."
"I know the Brackens. They have good sons." Ned grimaces, keeping his gaze in front of him. "You know she'll have to get married eventually. Nearly every house in the Seven Kingdoms has sent in a proposal now. How long are you going to keep turning them down?"
"She's not ready yet."
"She's not ready, or you're not ready." Ned stops walking, Catelyn turning to face him. "I know we agreed to let her make the decision but you know if we leave it completely to her she'll stay in Winterfell her entire life, unmarried and alone."
"Then what do you suppose we do?"
Catelyn sighs. "We send word to some of the lords. Have them come and visit. Let her meet their sons and perhaps she'll find someone she likes." Ned grimaces again. "She can't stay here forever. She can't stay by Robb's side forever. We let them get too close. We both knew it was risky letting them stay together so long. We've been too soft. We need to push her."
Ned stares at Catelyn for a moment before nodding. "I'll think about it." He moves past her, continuing forward.
Ned knows his daughter needs to marry. He's had every lord in the North practically knocking down the gates of Winterfell since her sixteenth nameday. Not long after that the proposals from lords in the South began coming in as well. It seemed the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms knew about his eligible daughter and they all wanted a chance at marrying her. He remembered the same had happened with his sister Lyanna. Almost every day it seemed there was a raven from somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms with a proposal. His own marriage had been a default since his elder brother was killed. He didn't want the same for his daughter, but perhaps he had been too soft, too willing to let her stay in Winterfell. As much as he disliked the idea, he knew some space would be good for her. Perhaps he could convince her to at least meet a few suitors. Perhaps she would find one she liked who could help distance her from her brother and her home.
Lyra doesn't like sewing. It's not enough that she hates it, but she has to be good at it. She's decent, but she's constantly reminded of how mediocre her needlework is compared to Sansa's. Sansa had a natural talent for needlework and Septa Mordane was constantly gushing about her work. Lyra at least had enough respect to try to do decent work, but Arya didn't bother trying. Lyra would have preferred anything to needlework, and she knew Arya would have rather trained with their brothers.
Arya had a habit of sneaking away from her sewing lessons while Septa Mordane wasn't looking. Lyra was usually the one to be sent after her, mostly because Lyra was supposed to be the responsible one and because Lyra knows exactly where her sister is going.
It's not hard to intercept her, following the shouts and the sound of running feet. Arya thinks she's clever, but she's more like Lyra than she wants to admit. Arya knows every trick in the book, but Lyra wrote the book. She was far from a perfect lady, but Arya was more bold than Lyra ever was. She had once heard Septa Mordane describe Arya and Sansa as the two extremes where Lyra was the perfect balance between them. She knew how to behave when the time called for it, but nothing could hide the wild streak that ran in her blood.
A hand reaches out, pulling Arya in a doorway before she can run past. Lyra puts her finger to her lips as she pulls Arya out of sight, Bran running past the room unknowingly. Arya grins up at her, earning a grin back.
"You always know."
Lyra wraps an arm around Arya's shoulders, leading her back towards the training grounds. "You forget Robb and I were doing the same thing before you were even a thought."
"I can't believe it. You're both too...well behaved."
Lyra smirks. "We're well behaved because we're older now. But back when we were your age we got into all kinds of trouble. Well, I got Robb into trouble. Just ask mother or father. They can tell you all about it."
There's a commotion in the courtyard when they step out of the hall, both of them making their way over curiously, Lyra picking Robb out of the mass of men and horses.
"What's happening?"
"There's a deserter." Robb says, putting on his riding gloves.
Lyra nods, taking a step back. "Be safe, then. Don't fall off your horse again."
Robb rolls his eyes, mounting his horse. "That was one time and we were children."
Neither of them can suppress a grin.
"Still, be careful."
Robb smiles at his twin. "Always."
Lyra finds Arya again, both of them watching their father and brothers ride out of Winterfell.
"Why can't we go with them?" Arya asks, dejectedly.
"Because it's not a woman's place to watch an execution."
"It's not fair."
"Nothing's fair to us, Arya. We're women."
Lyra is on her bed reading when they return. She calls for Robb to enter her room, knowing his knock well enough she would recognize it in her sleep. He enters, a big grin on his face, two fluffy, moving bundles in his arms. Lyra puts her book to the side, sitting up.
"What are those?"
Robb sits on the edge of her bed, letting the bundles go. "Direwolves."
Both of the wolves instantly start moving around, sniffing at the furs on her bed, one of them coming over to her and sniffing at her hand.
"Direwolves? Where-"
"On our way back. We found their mother dead, gored by a stag."
"How-"
"Father said we could keep them if we take care of them and train them. There were seven of them, one for each of us." He keeps the darker of the two from crawling off the edge of her bed, the lighter one crawling into her lap. "She's yours."
Lyra gently runs her fingers through the soft fur on the wolf pup's back. She feels unsettled by something she can't put her finger on, but she tries to shake it off, looking down at the wolf pup that has made herself home in her lap, big black eyes staring up into Lyra's own sky blue.
"She'll need a name." Robb says, his own wolf trying to chew on the edge of his sleeve.
Lyra pets her wolf, fingers running through the white speckles breaking up the light grey on her back. Like the first snow that settles over the grey of the North every few years. "Winter. Her name is Winter."
