For a long moment after his announcement I looked up to him in equal parts annoyed and fatigue. I knew that serious look on his face. It was his 'I'm about to do something utterly mind numbingly ragingly fucking moronic because it's in some way honorable and I have a weaker self-preservation instinct than a clinically depressed lemming' face.
As Lyanna I was used to seeing it. Normally right before he said something that made her want to hit him over the head with something heavy.
Peachy. Fucking. Keen.
"Spit it out, Eddard," I grumbled taking one last mouthful of stew. I had the strong feeling that he was about to spoil my appetite, the bastard.
"I'm sorry Lya but I simply cannot just leave the bodies of the Kingsguard to rot," he said calmly.
I frowned. Well, there was one dream dashed against the rocks of reality. "Don't tell me you're going to have us drag their fetid corpses across half of the realm..."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who insisted we bring the bones of the fallen home, and I understand your reasoning, but it would be dishonorable to leave them here. They fought well."
"Gods damn it Ned! I don't care how well they fucking fought" I roared, my face flushed with the fury of two lifetimes. "If you don't want to leave them for the fucking jackals, fine. Bundle them up and send message off and give those boy buggering loyalist faggots cause to stop fucking their squires for a moment and swing on by to pick up their trash!"
"Lyanna!" Ned exclaimed, "I understand that they did you a great disservice, but they died honoring their oaths to their king! "
In that moment I really felt that I reached an almost apotheosis like understanding of House Baratheon family words.
Ours Is The Fury.
Because in that moment the fires of my rage vanished and I became hate. It welled up from my belly like a boiling ichor of spite that permeated every fiber of my being.
I'd been angry before. I'd even reached that strange state of serene rage before. But this was different. It was almost like an almost enlightenment like state of oneness with my spite, a nirvana of hatred that brought with it a most terrible clarity.
"A... great... disservice." I said, may face twisting in a sweet smile, while my eyes burned with chilling madness. "A great disservice you say..."
I knew he was trying to be the honorable man. I knew he was trying to downplay it for the sake of being polite. But some events could never be downplayed. Must never be downplayed. For doing so makes a mockery of their terribleness. This was one of those deeds. Oh, it wasn't the worst, but it was still on the list, and to have my own brother make light of it even unintentionally was unforgivable.
Now, Eddard Stark was many things, a fool most certainly, but he was no idiot. He could see my face and he reached. "Lya, I know I may have misspoke, but..."
"My name is Lyanna," I replied with the icey character of a long Northern winter.
He flinched.
"Now I you will excuse me Lord Eddard," I replied, "I find that I am no longer hungry and desire my solitude. Good day, my lord..."
I thrust my bowl into him, probably spilling the the remaining contents across his tunic, but I was in no mood to care.
"Lyanna, I..."
"I said good day, my lord!"
With the mechanical step of an automaton I forced my way back up the steps of the tower and into the room which had been Lyanna's cell. My cell. These past months.
I vaguely remember Howland and the servants parting to give me passage, but by this point I was barely in my own head as much as aware of my surroundings.
With a mighty kick I slammed the door behind me and then dropped to my knees as the tears started to flow freely despite my best effort.
Damn him!
Damn them all!
Damn these memories!
Damn these emotions!
Damn these thoughts!
Damn this body!
Damn these hormones!
I'll never see any of it again!
Not my family!
Not my friends!
Not my world!
Nothing!
I am trapped!
I not even me any more anymore!
I'm dead!
But I'm not!
Why couldn't I have stayed dead!
Why couldn't I just died me!
Why did I have to suffer through all of this!
Why?
Why?!
WHY?!
I screamed.
Someone is petting me.
Someone was petting my fucking head.
Those were the first coherent things to come to mind as I awoke. Probably also the first coherent things to come to mind since the dawn of my little psychotic breakdown.
For a moment I froze. What the fuck was going on?!
Then I relaxed as whatever legacy reactions from Lyanna were left started to filter through.
Her father used to do this when she was upset and it never failed to relax her. It seemed that this, like many things, had carried over.
"Lya," Ned slowly said as he continued to pet.
I didn't reply but I didn't stop him.
"I must be honest with you, sister," he said after a long pause. "I hate them as well. I hate them for what they've done to you."
"When I saw you... I can't describe the sorrow I felt. You were broken. You were dying. And as I felt the life slip away from you, I felt part of myself die with you..." He choked back a sob, "I don't know how you still live, Lya, and I don't care. One moment you lay dead. The next... you were alive and you were cursing. It was like the Gods have given you back to us."
He took a deep breath. "And when you woke up you were different. You were healthy, no fever. No sickness. You were you again. It was as if the gods had made you whole again..." He paused, "But I didn't understand... maybe couldn't understand the sorrow you still felt."
His hand tensed on my shoulder. "I didn't see the pain beneath your rage. I couldn't understand. And because of that of that I hurt you. But I think I'm beginning to see now..."
Part of me. That part of Lyanna that was still alive wanted to respond. But I was still angry. Really, really angry. And almost offended even though I knew he had no idea of the truth.
My family. Gone.
My world. Gone.
My life. Gone.
All because of some negligent idiot.
And now I'm trapped in this medieval hellhole, trapped in the body of a Jailbait MILF, and doomed to marry a drunken, whormongering frat boy who by all rights could throw me right back in the tower under the lock and key of the same band of polished turds who did it last time!
Ned, you have not a fraction of an iota of an idea the depths of my fucking loss.
He sighed as he felt me tense under his gentle grip. "Lya... I..."
He took a deep breath. "I will be completely honest with you sister. I loath to admit it, but there's a place in my heart... a part of me that would like nothing more than to leave them to the scavengers as you'd wish. But father is dead. Brandon is dead. I'm the Stark of Winterfell now... and I must hold myself to a higher standard. I have to be the better man."
Now it was my turn to sigh. He really was too noble for his own good.
"You honorable idiot," I muttered.
I turned over and looked at him. "Let me guess what comes next," I said in a terse, and completely unamused tone. "We head to Starfell. You dump off the bones of Dayne and the other Kingsguard for them to take custody of, because we both know I'll probably kick them down a cliff if I'm forced to smell their stench for another moment longer than absolutely necessary. And when we're there you plan on returning Dawn to them, because your head is far too up your ass to imagine keeping a bonafide sword of legend under right of conquest..."
He frowned. "I didn't come here for the sword. I came here for you."
"And what if I want it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Seriously. Magical fucking greatsword. What isn't there to love?
He sighed in exasperation, but a smile came to his face none the less.
"Lya..."
"Don't 'Lya' me, Eddard Stark," I snapped, "I think I've bloody well earned it."
"Lya, Dawn is as tall as you are... If you tried to swing it, it would probably have you spinning like a top."
I crossed my arms. Magical Sword of Legend. Not giving up. "And what if I wanted to keep it for little Brandon?"
He blinked. "Brandon?"
"My son, Ned. Do please try and keep up..." I paused and winced as my mind trailed off to Robert.
I shuddered. "Or at least that's what I plan to name him if we don't instead claim he's your bastard and not mine."
Ned flushed. "Why would we do such a thing?"
My eyes narrowed. "Dragonspawn."
Ned winced as if he'd been struck. "How did you..." He sighed. "I understand. You fear how Robert my react."
I nodded. "Aye. If we must I will claim my child died before the end of his first week. If we must we will find an unfortunate mother who lost her child and buy the corpse so that if they desire proof then we will have little bones to show them."
Her grimaced at the thought of it. I will admit the idea of buying a dead infant off some peasant woman was far from a pleasant idea, but sometimes you simply had to do what you had to do. And I would be sure to give an amount that was respectful.
"What? You afraid your pretty little Catfish will take offense?"" I snorted. "If it comes to it, tell her the truth and no other."
He frowned at the name. "Please, do not speak ill of my Lady Wife. She is a good woman."
"I don't speak ill, I speak honestly. I remember her from Harrenhal," I replied. "While you were drooling over Ashara Dayne..."
Ned winced slightly at this, I noticed in passing."
"...I felt it pertinent to look into the woman who Bran was going to marry. I was not impressed. I found her to be arrogant, vapid, and entitled. All in all the stereotypical spoiled Southron 'princess'."
"Lya!"
"It's true, Ned..." I replied arms crossed.
And it really was. The night before her unfortunate run in with the Douchebag Prince, Lyanna had spoken to the Catlyn. The apple doesn't fall from the tree, and she was very much like a more seasoned, more entitled, version of Sansa.
I could remember Lya's emotions clearly. A mixture of exasperation and pity, for she knew that the older girl's delusions would be shattered the moment she'd walk into find Brandon fucking one of the maids on their marriage bed. And if that didn't do it, the gaggle of bastards he'd leave in his wake would finish the job.
To be honest, it was probably one of the factors that lead up to her decision to go playing in the woods with The Motherfucker. She saw Robert, realized how much he was like her brother, and didn't want to be that woman... saving herself for her husband while he was off making the eight.
"...And I honestly fear that if we claim my son is your bastard, she'd drive him to the wall with her torments."
"She's a good woman," he replied, "She would do no such thing."
Yes she would. And I knew that for a fact. And honestly, it's why I'd never be able to like her. No matter what, in another world, she would have tormented Lyanna's son... My son... his entire childhood. So badly in fact he would throw his life away and take the Black.
And of course, it had been her bumbling and shit decisions that had lead House Stark right to the brink of extinction.
No. Check that. It's not that I'd never be able to like her. It's that I actually found myself hating the woman. And her sister. And her entire fucking line.
Her idiot sister whose insanity doomed the entire realm to war because she couldn't figure out a way to make being wed to the second most powerful man in the realm somehow tolerable.
Her asshole father, who only valued his kin as bartering tokens, and set the stage for the above by doing something that every maiden of the realm is warned to be a profoundly bad idea.
Her 'True Knight' of an uncle who when push came to shove, abandoned his oaths as readily as the three stooges down stairs by throwing the smallfolk of Riverrun upon the tender mercies of the Butcher of Casterly Rock.
Her brother was the best of the lot. A fact that Catlyn would actually berate him for. Though he was still a whore mongering twit. A Floppy Fish indeed.
No. I think I hated House Tully as well.
"Don't delude yourself Ned. You had the stars within your reach, and then were forced to settle for a cold fish," My eyes glittered with mirth as I looked back up to Eddard. I actually smirked slightly. "Maybe that's why you're so keen on going to Starfall. Get one last look at a real woman before having to return home to the Ginger Kitty that Hoster sold you."
Slowly Ned learned in, a spark of fire in his eyes.
I smirked.
"Lya," he said slowly, "I'm still not letting you have Dawn."
My smirk turned into a smile "We'll see about that."
