Chapter 3: Of Winter Wills
She did not know how long she stood there, looking down on Theon's frozen form. There he was and there he would stay. She wanted to weep for her brothers and a small part of her, even for Theon, but she felt only bone-weary exhaustion inside.
Theon's eyes were shut and there he would lie evermore in his enchanted sleep.
A feeling on the edge of her conscious mind brought her back to the present. A rather distinctly odd feeling that she somehow understood the meaning of – her creations had apparently accomplished the grisly task she had commanded them. Whatever this ability was, it was new to her. Her old creations, like Olaf and Marshmallow, once created and gifted with life, were each their own unique existences. She could no more control them than she could Anna.
Here and now though, she could feel the connection between her and every one of her creations, always there in the back of her mind. She focused her attention inward on one of these connections.
After the red comet shone its baleful red glow across the sky, she found her powers shifting. When she attempted her snowy creations before its arrival, they were always dead and utterly lifeless, only animated and slaved by her will alone. It was such a mockery of her previous gift that she rarely used it since.
Now though, her creations shone with hints of life again. Her wolves and marshmallows took in the orders she had given and obeyed. She needed not to command every step and movement as was necessary before.
She turned her gaze to one of her direwolf creations, modeled after her Bruni. It was sniffing at the corpse underneath… Her? Him? It? She focused harder on the connection she could feel between them.
It had no gender. The surety of the thought suddenly crystallized in her head. The direwolf turned its attention to her as if knowing Lyarra was focusing on it. It looked very similar to Bruni if only Bruni had a line of icicles growing backward along her spine. That and if Bruni had claws and teeth of sharpened ice with the same blue eyes Lyarra herself had.
She tried tugging on the connection and she could feel its full attention on her now, awaiting her instruction. On a whim, she tried the opposite and pushed on the connection.
Hints of smoke from previous fires lingered in the air which mingled with the stench of corpses surrounding them but the prominent scent of blood drowned nearly drowned all else out.
She saw herself standing over… Herself? No. She was seeing through the eyes of her creation. Her body was still standing but only the whites of her eyes could be seen. She looked down and saw her bloodstained paws and tried to take a step but the balance felt all wrong and she only tumbled to the ground.
She closed her eyes and focused on easing the connection between the two and suddenly she was back in her body.
This ability… Was she a warg from one of Old Nan's tales?
Take a step forward, she commanded in her head while focusing on the connection between them. The direwolf cocked its head at her and did so.
How much life was her new creations capable of? She tugged on another connection, somehow knowing it was yet another snowy Bruni. Information flooded her mind. This direwolf creation had somehow gotten onto the battlements to attack the ironborn. How? she wondered to herself. Memories suddenly poured through the link between the two. A marshmallow had carried it onto the battlements as it climbed the walls to assault the ironmen there.
She let her focus drop and felt all the connections in her mind before grabbing them and giving a command for them to come to her. They did so as she could feel them out of sight still in the storm raging around them but moving as she commanded.
There was another bond she could feel but it was not as clear as between her and her creations. She closed her eyes and turned her focus on it.
It was hazy and indistinct, nebulous. Trying to affect it was like trying to grab onto mist with her hands. With sudden realization, she knew what it was.
Opening her eyes and looking straight into the sky. Not that anything could be seen as she was still standing in the eye of the storm she had called down in her grief.
She vaguely remembered that she wished for nothing more than to drown the world in her grief and pulled upon the world in a way she had never done so before, not in all her time here or Arendelle. She pulled and pulled until something shattered and the storm answered her in demand in full.
She willed the storm to cease.
It surprised her when it did not.
She focused on that nebulous connection between her and the sky and threw her will into it.
Cease, she demanded. It was like trying to stop the flow from a broken dam.
A battle of will was being fought in her mind – her against the world. She built up the storm and fed until bursting. Now it refused to be shackled once again.
Yet for all of its fury, it was a mindless thing. Slowly, it acceded to her will and began to lessen.
Suddenly, the storm's power began to surge once again. This time though, it was not by her will. Someone, or perhaps something, was attempting to tear control from her. Panic grew in her chest as she frantically attempted to seize control back. She could feel the malice and purpose being infused into the storm.
To spread and grow endlessly, to drown the world in eternal ice. To rob the world of all that was warm and living.
No. She would not allow this.
Everything she had, every drop of strength and will, she threw all she was against this foreign invader. She was of winter and winter was of her. After she learned of the harshness of this land, she promised herself her people that they would only have light winters for as long as she lived so that the North may have a chance to prosper. That the old and weak would never need to leave for the final hunt.
She had broken that promise with this storm but she renewed that promise here and now.
Elsa of Arendelle protected her people. Elsa of the Northuldra did so. Lyarra Snow of Westeros would do no less.
Winter was more than a season of cold and death. Lyarra met its malice with love and it seemingly flinched. Love for her family and her people. Love for snow and ice and all things winter. Even in the coldest depths of winter, warmth could yet be found. In sitting with family around a warm fire. In the mornings as a gentle snowfall descends leaving a muted land. It was the season of rest before the time of renewal began.
With each passing moment, the struggle intensified, yet Lyarra knew that it could not continue. Her mind, body, and revolve were waning, but she refused to relent knowing that surrendering control now meant she would never regain it. Victory had to be attained here lest it be lost forever more.
Just as doubt began to creep in, it was over. One moment she was struggling and the next she found herself victorious.
In a thunderous clap of air, the storm dissipated nigh instantaneously by the sheer force of will she exerted on it to cease.
She did not stop there though, her sheer momentum bringing her through the storm and onto the connection to whatever it was that tried to usurp her control.
Lyarra slammed into it and for a moment, saw only blue eyes that radiated menace and sheer cold before it disappeared, the connection severed.
For the second they faced off though, she felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn't just the cold – there was something else there, something malicious, utterly inhuman, and yet, something familiar about it. Never before had she encountered anyone who could control winter as she could, and the realization sent a shiver through her. This world was dangerous and had just become so much more. Whatever it was, she would have to be careful when summoning storms.
Breathing heavily, she surveyed her surroundings to see her loyal creations standing guard, a dozen Marshmallows with bloody hands and icy claws extended and twice that in nearly identical Brunis with bloodied snouts. She suddenly had an idle thought that she would need to think of a name for her wolf creations.
Beyond her creations, the deceased ironborn littered the courtyard.
A courtyard for dead things.
Exhaustion overwhelmed her and her legs collapsed, bringing her into the snow. The entire ordeal was finally catching up to her. The opportunity to escape, the news of her siblings, the ironborn, and the final struggle for control of the storm had left her utterly spent. She closed her eyes, unable to bear looking at her brothers. She had failed them utterly. How could she protect her people if she could not even protect those closest to her? She longed to cry, but she only felt empty inside.
Sing me a song L'ya. The river one, Rickon would lisp, unable to say her full name yet. Now, he never would.
Where the Northwind, meets the sea… There's a river, full of memory… Sleep my darling, safe and sound… For in this river, all is found.
And Bran. Her little brother was just beginning to regain some of the life and energy that his fall stole from him.
She did not know how long she sat in the snow, staring blankly into the sky and lost in memories of better days before she heard the stirrings of the living.
Turning to the source of the sound, she found the inhabitants of Winterfell looking at her. Was it fear etched onto their faces? Perhaps rightfully. She was a murderer. The ironborn may not have died by her hands, but they died at her command. A hypocrite as well. Even though she was furious at the other presence for attempting to use winter to end life, had she not done the same thing?
Perhaps if you had done so earlier, your brothers may yet live, an insidious thought crossed her mind. Before her thoughts could spiral even darker, someone was in the snow next to her.
"Lyarra," came the voice of a servant, Alysanne, the one who had revealed the deaths of Lyarra's brothers to her when she had taken the opportunity to escape her confinement.
Behind Alysanne, the inhabitants of Winterfell were with her, staring at her creations.
"Are you hurt Lyarra?" Another servant asked while a kitchen matron looked over her.
"You did well m'lady. These ironborn scum deserved death." A stableman muttered and after a moment, gathered enough courage to pat the leg of a marshmallow.
"Oh shush, can't you tell the girl is troubled?" Another different woman smacked the stableman across the arm.
It slowly dawned on Lyarra that they didn't fear her.
"Make way, make way!" Maester Luwin cried out as he cut through the crowd and knelt before her. Looking over her with a concerned expression. "Are you injured anywhere Lyarra?" He asked.
"I'm…" she hesitated, knowing that saying she was fine would be a lie. "Alive," she settled for, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.
Maester Luwin frowned. "We had no word of you for some time and feared the worst. Theon would allow none to attend you but his own men."
"I was ill… poisoned, most likely," she said slowly. "I suspect Theon feared my gifts after I refused him again. "I recovered but continued the deception and attempted to escape today when I realized there was only one guard outside my chambers."
"I see," Maester Luwin replied. "Come, we need to get you inside to a fire the remnants of whatever poison needs to be properly purged."
A fire sounded wonderful right now and she did not resist as Maester Luwin and Alysanne both gently helped her off the cold and bloodstained snow.
"Wait Maester Luwin… My brothers," her voice cracked with emotion. "They deserve better than this. Arrange for them to be moved to the crypts if you would."
"I will have it done," he seemingly hesitated before nodding.
They had nearly made it out of the courtyard before the sound of trumpets sounded outside the walls of Winterfell.
"What was that?" She questioned. An idle thought sent her marshmallows back to the battlements.
"I believe that be Ser Rodrik storming the walls of Winterfell to liberate it of ironborn," Luwin replied. "Won't take long before they realize the walls lie undefended.
One of her marshmallows had reached the top and she looked through its eyes.
All around the walls of Winterfell, banners flew in the air. Before those banners, men swarmed the walls from all directions. Many carried siege ladders as they ran.
The charging men slowed as they saw her marshmallow fully stand atop the battlement, twenty feet tall. The charge halted entirely as all her marshmallows lined the walls. With a command, they all roared simultaneously.
There, that should be enough to stop them and she retreated from the Marshmallow's mind.
"-arra?"
"Lyarra!" Luwin was asking worriedly.
Coming back, Lyarra replied. "Apologies, I was skinchanging."
Luwin was silent but looked thoughtful, looking curiously at her Marshmallows standing tall upon the battlements and Bruni's in the courtyard. Alysanne meanwhile, just gawked at her.
"Luwin, have the gate opened and a rider sent to Ser Rodrik."
"As you command." As she commanded, she thought sorrowfully. What a twisted joke. Lyarra Snow was the bastard of Winterfell. Winterfell should never have been hers to command in any fashion.
As much as the cold never bothered her anyway, Lyarra would still prefer the warmth of a blazing fire to the cold most times.
"How are you feeling child?" Maester Luwin inquired as he examined her closely.
Turning from the crackling fire to Luwin she met the maesters gaze and gave her best attempt of a reassuring smile, "As well as I can be, Luwin." She examined Luwin. He was an aging man but the lines deep lines of weariness on his face were new. A result of the past few tumultuous moons. No doubt she looked just as weary.
She sipped her honeyed tea, letting the warmth of it slowly suffuse her body. She had called for it to wash out the horrid taste of the concoction Luwin insisted she imbibe for her health.
"What occurred in the time I was confined Luwin?" She needed to know why had Theon done what he did.
Luwin was astute enough to understand her question. "I'm afraid your brothers attempted to flee in the night. Theon set out the morn after and returned with two corpses."
That's it? "And because of that, Theon murdered them?" she replied in disbelief. Was that all it took? Now that she had time to actually think, it made no sense.
"What could he possibly hope to accomplish?"
"I suspe–" Luwin never managed to finish his words before the door was opened and Ser Rodrik stepped in. Like everyone in the room, he had better days. His hair was wet, most likely from melted snow, and his large wispy white whiskers he was so fond of was untied and unkempt.
"Ser Rodrik, it is good to see you are well." Lyarra greeted the man softly.
She was surprised when the man suddenly went to his knees.
"Lady Lyarra, I failed you and your family," he said in remorse. Ser Rodrik was an unyielding man, honorable, but stern as well. To hear him speak in such a tone was strange.
Eying Luwin from the side, she met Luwin's gaze.
"It is little fault of yours Ser Rodrik. I am to blame as much as you are. None of us saw this danger." Luwin spoke plainly.
"Yet I–" Rodrik made to retort but Lyarra cut him off.
"Enough Ser Rodrik. You as well Luwin. None could have anticipated Theon's treachery." A small, irrational part of her wanted to lay the blame at their feet, but she knew it was not their doing. If anyone was to blame, it was her. For all of her power, she still let this happen. She could have been smarter that night in the Great Hall or she could have escaped faster. Whatever mistakes she had made cost the lives of her brothers.
"It's over now," she finished with a bitter tone, feeling hot tears building up again. "My brothers are gone." Her anger and grief intertwined in her words.
"About that…" Luwin began slowly. "I have reason to believe that the bodies Theon brought back were not truly who he says they were."
"What?" "Do you speak truly Luwin? Do my lords yet live?" Both Rodrik and her spoke.
The feeling of hope began to bloom within her chest, washing away the despair. It was a small spark and it was perhaps foolish of her to give hope to such an idea, yet it grew with each passing moment.
"Luwin, tell me that this isn't just a false hope or sick jape," she demanded of him.
"I examined the bodies Theon brought back and some details were most irregular. The legs," Luwin explained. "I knew Bran's thoroughly as I tended to them after his fall and they shared only a passing likeness to his."
"So there's a chance now," Lyarra spoke firmly. That seed of hope had bloomed and filled her with an energy she didn't realize she still possessed.
"Aye," Rodrik agreed, eager to atone for his failure.
"Where could they be then Luwin? What direction did they flee in?"
"Gods only know, Lyarra. Theon commanded me to aid him in his search that day and we followed Farlen's hounds to Wolfswood. The scent ended there and the search became fruitless. As night fell, Theon had a conversation with Reek before declaring he knew where the boys were and sent most of the party back to Winterfell."
"Where is Reek? He should be in a cell." The man had not yet paid for his crimes against the North and Lady Hornwood.
"The servants say he left some time ago. Where to, none knows."
"The princes?" Rodrik reminded.
"Yes. While Theon sent most of us back to Winterfell, he kept Reek and a few ironmen with him. Curiously, those same ironmen died over the next weeks. I suspect Theon butchered some poor lads and dressed them in Stark clothes when his search proved a failure." A part of her mourned for these nameless boys, yet another part was buoyed that her brothers may yet live.
"Maester Luwin, send ravens to all the nearby castles and holdfasts that Bran and Rickon could conceivably reach. Ser Rodrik, send search parties out," she commanded.
"We should also prepare for the worst," Luwin cautioned them. "Ironborn to the north, west, and south of Winterfell. The eastern Hornwood lands are being battled over by House Manderly and Bolton. Not to mention winter will soon be upon us. A challenge for a hale and hearty man, but for a cripple and a child…" Luwin trailed off, the unspoken implications clear.
It was a grim but necessary reminder. She knew Luwin did not mean it as a rebuke, but that storm… Had her brothers survived Theon Greyjoy only to die at her hands?
Shaking the dark thoughts off, she spoke firmly. "All we can do is hope the gods are good."
Author's Notes:
Thanks to Samarkand on SpaceBattles for the beta read and really good advice.
Sorry for how long this chapter took. I would say that reading the books took longer than expected but that would be a lie. During my Googling and researching for this fic about things like medieval sieges, sieges, battle tactics, and stuff, it got me in a bit of a medieval-y mood and I decided to pick up Mount & Blade Bannerlord which rapidly absorbed all my free time. Especially when I realized there was a Game of Thrones mod for it. It has also really made me want to try my hand at writing a cavalry charge. Fortunately, my interest started to wane after a while (until the next update which adds DRAGONS) and I managed to finish this chapter. Unfortunately for y'all though is that the Crusader Kings 3 A Game of Throne mod just released into public beta lmao
At least I have a fairly good idea of what I want the next chapter to be about at the very least though no ETA.
Also, if you're willing, please throw out any names for Lyarra's snowy conjured Bruni's. Keep in mind her current naming scheme such as Marshmallows and Snowgies.
Thank you all for reading.