Chapter 3

Warning: While I would normally put any type of author input at the end of the chapter I felt as though an exception should be made for this. I just want to be respectful of my readers. This chapter contains a scene of dub-con between an uncle and niece (incest). If this is a trigger for anyone I would advise skipping over that specific scene. I know that in cannon Jamie only ever slept with Cersei, but believe it or not this actually has a purpose in the plot. And no that purpose isn't for Cersei to go psycho and kill Lyanna, making everyone hate an actually very well written character and love an OC because of such a tragic, heartbreaking death *insert eye roll here*. Also, I'm playing a little bit with ages here. Lyanna is sixteen- almost seventeen- and Jon and Robb are seventeen. In the book I know they're fifteen (and there are a few other details that I can't think of right now because it's late at night and I don't have the book right beside me)but in the show they look older, so… just go with it? Please?

There's blood. Lots and lots of blood. So much blood that the earth is red and on the verge of turning black. Lyanna can hear screams of desperation, loud cries for help or mercy. Many want death but none want it more than her. Tommen is dead weight in her arms, eyes glassy and unseeing. Myrcella's not much better. Her throat is slit wide open oozing thick black blood. Lyanna had never seen such carnage before. Her stomach is churning and she can't get up off her knees. There's no fight left- what had she even been fighting anyway? Lyanna blinks once, twice, three times before looking up. Joffrey is sitting on the throne, blood staining his clothes and skin, with a look of disbelieving horror.

"You did this!" He shouts, voice echoing through the room. "This is your fault, Lyanna!"

"I- I didn't want this. I just-"

"You just wanted a bastard. Myrcella and Tommen are dead because you couldn't be bothered to keep your legs shut. I don't know who's going to die next. Maybe it'll be you, the lion who went off to live with wolves."

Lyanna felt her anger rising, coloring her face a few shades darker. Joffrey wouldn't stop speaking. He just wouldn't stop. Finally she snapped and spewed out just as much hate and venom as her little brother.

"I betrayed no one you whiny little twat! This," she gestured to the death around them. "This is not my fault. Myrcella and Tommen are gone because of your wrongfully executed orders. This is on you, Joffrey. Not me."

"You dare question your king? I could have you killed for treason!" His face was beginning to turn red. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell.

"Joffrey, I want you to listen very carefully. You are not my king. Not now and certainly not ever."

He screamed then, half in rage and half in madness. Lyanna felt an aching pain in her lower body like a thousand swords poking around just for the fun of it. The world was growing dark, yet she could swear her eyes were still open. Joff sounded far off now as he called her name again and again until, at last, she could hear him no more.

Lyanna woke with a start, body overheated and sticky from sweat. Her mouth was dry, and her throat was scratchy. Water, she needed water. Or wine. No, not wine. Gods only knew the dreams a cup of wine would bring her. A faire was blazing softly, casting shadows about the room. Everything was silent and scary and suddenly Lyanna felt like a little girl who just wanted her mother or father. How strange. She always thought she left that girl behind long ago. As a child Lyanna never exactly received great comfort from her parents. More often than not it was Jamie who responded to her cries, all cold armor and misplaced words. He could kill a man in the blink of an eye but floundered when trying to comfort terrified children.

Gods, Jamie.

The idea struck her suddenly and before she could make a conscious decision her hand was reaching out, opening the door.

His sword glinted in the pale, night light. When Lyanna was younger it was always comforting to see it strapped to her uncle's waist. Now… well, now the sword was just a sword. She didn't find comfort in it anymore. The monsters she feared now could never be slayed by metal. They could never be dispelled by the mighty Kingslayer. As if sensing her thoughts Jamie turned and gave her a curt smile. Neither of them said anything for the longest time. Lyanna was just about to give up and go back to bed when the knight finally spoke.

"I assume this means the nightmares have returned."

"You assume too much." Lyanna studied his face in the torch light. "But yes."

"How long?"

"What-"

"Don't play stupid Lyanna. Stupid doesn't suit you like it does other highborn ladies." Jamie opened the door wider and stepped inside the room. "Tyrion and Cersei both have taught you to be more than a pretty little idiot."

Lyanna sighed before answering. "Just tonight. It's been months. Why would they come back now? I don't understand."

"Perhaps Winterfell has triggered something inside you. Something that made your prophetic dreams return." Jamie smiled. It wasn't playful. It was a challenge. A challenge to argue with him and attempt to prove him wrong.

All of his challenges ended the same way: with her naked beneath him, confessing how she was wrong and he would always be right. It was a common enough occurrence between them, especially since Lyanna's sixteenth nameday several months prior. Often times Lyanna would go into a state of depression afterwards, focusing on how wrong it was that she actually enjoyed being fucked by her uncle. Her soul had to be damned by now, but it made little difference. This… thing between Jamie and Lyanna would continue because she didn't really want to stop it. Not all the time at least. She wasn't completely unaware of how handsome her uncle appeared to other women. And things could be worse. Couldn't they? Lyanna liked to believe so.

"My dreams aren't prophetic. They're just dreams. Everyone has them."

"Mmm, but yours are special. Just like you." Jamie's index finger trailed along her jawline before stopping at her lips. "Have I told you lately how beautiful you've become?"

Lyanna shook her head. "You told me that I'm beginning to look more and more like my mother. You told me I would look just like her if it wasn't for my unfortunate dark hair." In all those words, all those flatteries, she had never heard him say beautiful.

"Yes." He kissed her gently, moving both his hands to her waist. "So tell me, Lyanna. What did you foresee?"

"Nothing." She pressed her body closer to his, flinging her arms around his neck. "It was just a dream."

"But it wasn't, was it? I think you saw this. I think that's why you wouldn't speak first tonight. You dreamed of me burying my head between your thighs. You dreamed of riding me until we both collapse, spent and tired. I think you dreamed of me shoving my cock in that tight cunt of yours and making you scream loud enough for that bastard boy to hear." As he talked he pulled off Lyanna's dress and tossed it somewhere else. In return she unbuckled his sword, placed it on a chair, and slowly stripped him of the rest of his clothes. One of his hands gripped her by the waist while the other dipped down to her sex and began stroking softly. She couldn't stop the moan that tumbled from her lips. Jamie silenced her with a kiss she more than willingly reciprocated.

A ball of guilt was starting to form in her stomach. This was Winterfell, not King's Landing. They were in the home of Lord Stark. This wasn't right in any way. Lord Stark opened up his home and she repaid him by defaming it with incest. Admittedly it was very typical. Lyanna had never been good at impulse control or any kind of control really. There was something else at work here as well. Something Jamie said. 'The bastard boy'. Jon. Had… had Jamie seen something and assumed she wanted Jon Snow? The thought didn't repulse her. Their conversation had proven him to be a sweet person if a little stoic. And yes, she would vainly admit to finding his face pleasing. He would be a good companion during her stay in Winterfell. But she didn't want to- they could never- it would be more taboo than- Oh fuck it. Lyanna pushed Jamie away. Being so distracted by her thoughts she didn't notice they were lying on the bed until Jamie sat up.

"What?" His tone was curt, almost angry. No, not almost. Definitely angry.

"Nothing… well, not nothing, obviously. I just think that this shouldn't… I mean, we shouldn't… we're in Winterfell, what if-"

"Lyanna, you're rambling."

"I know." She didn't feel confident anymore. Here, at night, all her bravado and sarcasm was stripped away until she was naked for anyone to see. Usually things felt comfortable with Jamie, but the thought of Jon somewhere in the castle had her on edge. What would he think? Why should she care? There was just too much doubt for anything to happen with Jamie. "I just can't. Not here."

"Then pretend we aren't here."

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't." Jamie tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. "I can have you feeling so blissful you won't even be able to tell me where we are afterwards." He kissed her again, making her head spin and her heart pound.

Wrong. Wrong. So wrong. Then why aren't you stopping this? Jamie would never force himself on you. Would he? Tell him you don't want it. Tell him…

Tell him nothing. Lyanna gripped his shoulders tight, leaving behind nail marks. This wasn't right at all but she just couldn't care anymore. The kiss continued until it was nothing but teeth and tongue and lips and desire. At last Jamie flipped her onto her stomach, entering her from behind. His thrusts were hard and possessive like he knew she was thinking of Jon and wanted to fuck the thought of him away. She was a whimpering mess beneath him, barely managing to stifle her moans and near screams. With one last snap of his hips Lyanna came undone. Jamie followed after, pulling out slowly. She fell to the bed, unable to do anything but grin sleepily at her uncle.

"Let me know if you have another dream. Your mother will wish to know." Jamie kissed the top of her head after dressing and repositioning his sword.

"Yes, Uncle." Lyanna stretched and climbed under the covers. The dress she had previously been sleeping in didn't matter anymore. Despite being utterly worn out she couldn't help but think of Jon Snow. He really, really was one of the nicest people she'd encountered. Granted they'd only had one actual conversation, but sometimes that is all that's needed to get a decent idea of someone's character. Before lapsing back into sleep Lyanna saw Jon smiling at her after walking her back to her room. He really had a nice smile.

People who come from dysfunctional families are not destined for a dysfunctional life. -Bo Bennett