Winterfell
Catelyn Stark
Lady Catelyn Stark sighed, looking intensely at her daughter, watching over her as she slept soundly in her bed, the furs pulled all the way up to her chin. Catelyn couldn't help but curse both Ned and Lysara. She knew that something like this would end up happening if her husband kept on indulging their daughter and their fantasies about that demon religion. Her eldest daughter was found sleepwalking around the Godswood, it was Ser Jory Cassel who had found her in the freezing cold, in the early hours of the morning as he went to train. The skies were still dark and the air was still bitter than when she raced down the halls to her daughter's chambers upon receiving the news.
Lady Catelyn was terrified when she saw her daughter being carried and brought back into the castle, disturbed yet still somehow managed to remain claimed by sleep. Catelyn was curious yet angered at how her daughter had managed to get out of the castle, unnoticed, but she knew that could wait until her daughter had woke from her sleep and was well. Lysara had been unconscious for several hours and nothing could be done to rouse her even the Maester had trouble in doing so, placing every powerful herb that he could think of under her nose to wake her yet nothing worked. The auburn haired woman pondered on getting supplies to make a prayer wheel, but Maester Luwin assured her that Lysara would be fine and that she just needed rest. Even with that, she would never risk the life of her child and decided to leave and get materials, to put her mind at ease. It would make her feel better while she worried over her daughter. It would make her feel as if she was doing something to help.
However, as she rose from her chair, a strangled noise drew her attention back to her dark haired daughter. Her deathly pale daughter started to twist and turn wildly, it was as if she was caught in a night terror of sorts. Catelyn quickly sat back down, looming over her daughter and attempted to soothe her in the only way she could. Lady Catelyn placed the back of her hand on her daughter's feverish cheek and stroked her soft skin gently.
"It is alright, my sweet. You're alright. I'm here." Catelyn said softly, as Lysara began to settle once more. "There we go, that's it. Just sleep." Lady Catelyn peered at her pale skinned girl and once her daughter finally stilled, her chest rising and falling at an even pace, did she fully relax back into her chair. She continued to brush her thumb against her daughter's scorching hand. The heat radiating from her daughter should have worried her greatly but it was normal for Lysara. She always has been warm, Catelyn thinks to herself.
Catelyn Stark loved her daughter with her entire body and soul, with all her heart but she would and could not tolerate this poisonous religion. It is killing her. No matter what Lysara, Eddard or that bastard may think, she did love Lysara fiercely and only wanted what was best for her, like she did with all of her children. She just wished for them to know that. Her blue eyes refused to look up from her daughter's face, taking in her daughter's pale and parted lips and the dark shadows underneath her closed eyes. She let out a shaky sigh, reaching into a bowl of cool water that the Maester had collected and rinsed out the cloth. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door.
"Enter." Lady Catelyn said as she dabbed the cloth on her daughter's face.
Catelyn stiffened when she gave a side glance to Jon Snow, who entered her daughter's candlelit chambers slowly, silently creeping in fully. He closed the door gently behind him, a frown set on his face as he looked on. She shook with anger, her eyes narrowing as she looked up wildly to see her husband's bastard walk over to the other side of the bed, looking down at her daughter's face. Why is he here? He has no right! Catelyn thinks fiercely, eyeing him. He has no right to anything. Not ever. Especially not Lysara!
"Is…Is she going to be okay?" Jon murmured, as she fixated a piercing gaze on him.
"What?" Catelyn demanded, her eyes meeting his own.
"I...I, is Lysara alright?" Jon inquired once more, his face paling and his eyes widened at her stare. "Rickon is upset by it. He won't stop crying."
"Lysara is fine." She confirmed sharply, letting out a loud sigh before she started to curse herself for not getting the materials to make a prayer wheel, at least then she would have something to do to distract her from the fact that the bastard was standing a few mere inches from her. "Maester Luwin has assured us, she is perfectly fine. She needs rest, one too many disturbed nights, he claims."
"That is good news, my Lady," Jon said softly, a small smile appearing on his face as he stared down at Lysara.
"Yes, it is," Catelyn responded curtly, as she too found herself looking down at Lysara, who was sleeping soundly. She slowly looked back up at the bastard, eyeing him carefully, taking in his features before a question came to her mind. "Where are her siblings?"
"My Lady?" Jon asked, confusion setting on his features.
"You heard me, bastard!" She snapped, uncaring that he winced at her sharp tone or cruel wording. "Where are her siblings? I have no patience nor time for this, so I will not ask you again."
"Rickon is unsettled, but Maester Luwin and Lord Stark are seeing to him," Jon reported. "The rest of her siblings are sound asleep."
"Sleeping?" Catelyn asked, raising a brow. "Are they well?"
"I believe that they are, my Lady," Jon answered, not once looking up from Lysara's face.
"That is interesting," Catelyn hummed as she rose from her seat and stood up, wanting to come eye to eye with Jon. "I find it rather interesting that her siblings are well and sleeping in their beds, while you, her bastard half-brother is here, worrying at her side like I. Is it not strange?"
"I...I suppose." Jon swallowed, his eyes shifted from Lysara's face to her glare, as he shrunk back. "I mean, what I mean to say is, that Lysara does not have a very close connection with her siblings with the exceptions of Rickon."
"Are you accusing my children of not caring for their sister?" Catelyn seethed, giving Jon a look of warning before she would attack.
"Of course not, my Lady!" Jon said quickly, wincing from her glare. "I meant that when they knew and were assured that Lysara was well, they saw no reason to be here. I am sure that if Lysara was to find herself in any danger or was seriously sick, they would be waiting beyond that door!"
Lady Catelyn merely scoffed, dragging her bright blue eyes before she looked back down at Lysara, placing a hand upon the girl's sweat ridden and clammy forehead. She took the dark curls that stuck to her face and tucked them behind her ear before her eyes averted back up to Jon, as they filled with a hidden curiosity.
"Tell me-" Catelyn began, "Why do you care so much for my daughter?"
"She is my little sister," Jon answered sincerely. "I'm her brother."
"No." Lady Stark denied, her voice breathless as she shook her head. "That is where you are wrong, Jon Snow. Lysara has three brothers who love her dearly; Robb, Bran and Rickon. And has two doting younger sisters, Sansa and Arya. You are nothing, bastard. A mistake. Do you understand?"
"Jon's destined for many great things, mother."
Catelyn's eyes went wide at the airy voice and turned her eyes quickly back to Lysara, Jon hurriedly followed her gaze, his mouth falling agape at what he saw. Lysara's cold grey eyes were peering up at them, a hidden emotion held in them though her eyes were narrowed, her eyes landed on the ceiling and she stared blankly at it, appearing to be deep in thought.
"The Lord of Light will fill him with courage on his perilous journey," Lysara stated as she sat up slowly.
Lady Stark clutched at her heaving chest, digging her nails lightly into her chest and let out several sighs of relief. Her eyes flickered shut at the sound of Lysara's low and cool voice. Although sometimes it did sound as if her daughter had one too many to drink. Catelyn recalled the happiness and lightness that her daughter's voice once held but that night in the woods changed her.Something happened. She did not know nor will she ever know what truly happened that fateful night.
"How is Ghost?" Lysara asked, causing Jon and Catelyn to still. "I trust he is well."
"How did you-" Jon began but Catelyn interrupted him.
"How are you feeling?"Catelyn asked softly. "Are you alright?"
"I am well, mother." Lysara murmured, as she pulled back the furs and sat up.
Lady Catelyn briefly wondered how Lysara felt when it turned out she did not get one of those pups she helped birth and contemplated making the bastard give up his own pup so that Lysara would have one. It was destined, Catelyn remarked on what Eddard said. Although she was not fond of the pups, knowing that they would turn one day into overgrown and deadly beasts, she did not want her daughter to feel more isolated than she already was and was livid at the fact that Jon was more welcomed than Lysara.
"I have no need for a pup, mother, merely helping the she-wolf deliver the pups and giving them the gift of life was enough to soothe me," Lysara stated, causing her blue eyes to widen in surprise at her daughter's admission. It was as if she knew of my thoughts, Catelyn thinks as Lysara continues, "For I am already a wolf. Wolves are such misunderstood creatures, don't judge them too harshly mother. The pure, wild beauty they possess. R'hllor shows us the epitome of freedom by gifting us with wolves. Wolves can never be tamed."
Catelyn had surprising found herself sharing a confused look with Jon, as they listened to Lysara's ramblings as most people residing in Winterfell did so. The door opened wide and she turned her head to see Rickon, with the small direwolf padding behind him at his feet and nipping every so often at his ankles. His face broke into a smile and he giggled, racing for Lysara. He pounced on the bed, the small direwolf pup following after him. Shaggydog, Catelyn remarked to herself.
Though as she looked on at the display of affection between the elder sister and the younger brother with a fondness, one thing remained on her mind as she looked on at her tired, grey eyed daughter with hidden worry and fear; What is happening to you Lysara? The royal family are arriving today and you almost get yourself killed. And act as if nothing happened. Please, by the Seven...let the future be clearer for you...
Lysara Stark
The darker days were yet to come and the cause of those darker days was only hours away from her home. Lysara was adamant that things would not end well if her siblings and father went to King's Landing, she dreamt of it. Lysara had looked into the flames, praying for a saviour, praying for Azor Ahai but all she was allowed to see was a great game take place. This pawn made a move and then the other pawn made a move, on and on she watched them play, the game never ended until they had destroyed the world.
When the wolves leave for the lion's den, throats shall be torn.
The fire from the small pit roared with life behind her, causing a smirk to appear on her pale face as she twisted certain parts of her curly locks into braids, to keep the hair out of her face and eyes, there was nothing more irritating to her than when hair managed to get into her eyes or mouth. Lysara pulled on her red cloak across her shoulders, clasping her choker necklace around her neck and made certain that her ruby pendant was not twisted, as it would cause her some discomfort if it was.
As she passed down the hall, her eyes averted to Arya's chambers and tilted her head slightly, listening carefully to the grunting and groans of annoyance. Lysara extended her hand and opened the door wide open, before clasping her hands together and placed them over her lap. She watched with raised eyebrows to see Arya, grunting and complaining as she fiddled impatiently with her dress and hair. Arya turned to face her and her eyes immediately narrowed, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"You promised!" Arya stated fiercely, huffing a small breath as she struggles into her dress. Lysara says nothing, merely raises an eyebrow and walks over to her sister and sits her down on a nearby stool as Arya continues her angered and annoyance rant, "You promised that you would somehow convince Jory to give me sword lessons. You swore by it! I hate this...acting like a girl, I don't want to be like you or...Sansa."
"You are no girl, Arya Stark. You are a she-wolf of Winterfell, as is Sansa." Lysara informs her, as she braids Arya's hair. "You should be thankful that it was I who came looking for you, she-wolf. Had it been your Septa Mordane or our Lady mother, the hair pulling would have come with a needle brush and a long lecture on how to be the perfect 'Lady'."
Arya fell silent as Lysara tied the third braid in her sister's knotted hair and after she had done so, twisted the three braids into a bun on the crown of her head before draping her hair equally over her shoulders. Lysara laced up the back of Arya's dress loosely before she released the girl and turned the grey eyed girl around to face her. The girl huffed, folding her arms across her chest at the mere 'disgusting' act of being forced into a dress and forced to act like a 'Lady'.
"Done. Now, put on your cloak or you'll catch your death." Lysara commented, clasping her hands behind her back as Arya beamed at her, before taking her direwolf Nymeria and hurriedly left her chambers with her cloak flying behind her back.
Lysara followed shortly after and made her way out of the castle and into the courtyard, she looked on in hidden satisfaction as people winced when looking upon her or did nearly everything in their power not to meet her eyes. As she strode around the castle grounds, her eyes flickered downwards towards Bran's direwolf, jumping on her trailing skirt. The direwolf looked up at her with yellow eyes and wagged his tail, she couldn't help but follow the pup in amusement. The little unnamed direwolf then sat next to a tall wall, his eyes flickering up to the tower, causing a small smile to appear on her face when she saw where her wolf with wings was.
Lysara's eyes moved towards her mother who acted as if she were on some sort of warpath, storming through the castle as she made last preparations with Maester Luwin dutifully following her. When her mother's blue eyes met with her own, her brow furrowed but her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the pup running around her in circles and her younger brother, who was climbing an even higher wall than the last one. Her Lady mother reached her side and looked up.
"Brandon!" Lady Catelyn called, causing Brandon to look down at their mother. He always is surefooted and nimble.
"I can see the King!" Bran exclaimed excitedly and she was sure if he were a pup, his tail would be wagging furiously, as he lowered himself from the tower and swung down the side of the castle wall, which caused her mother's breath to hitch and a smirk to appear on her own face. "I saw him! I saw the banners!"
"How many times have I told you, Brandon? No climbing." Catelyn scolded, whilst Lysara looked on with hidden amusement so that her mother did not scold her like she has done several times already. At one point all she did was breathe and her mother reprimanded her for it. Lysara knew her younger brother would never stop climbing, it was in his blood. He will climb higher than all the rest.
"But, mother!" Brandon protested, dropping to the thatch roof as he continued his swift and agile descent towards the ground. "I saw the King, he's coming right now! Down our road!" Lysara looked on as her mother bent over to be at eye level with Brandon, his dark eyes meeting their mother's light ones and they held a both serious and stern expression.
"Promise me-" Their mother pleaded. "No more climbing."
"I promise," Brandon said, his eyes flickering down to his feet as he shifted slightly where he stood. Her red dyed lips tugged into a small smirk then as she gave a sidelong glance to her mother and then looked towards her brother once more. R'hllor may have gifted him with many things but lying was not one of those gifts bestowed upon him. Despite this, she was still amused by his 'solemn' vow and it seemed their mother was too, as her stern face softened.
"Do you know what?" Their mother asked.
"What?" Brandon inquired, curiosity seeping into his voice.
"To lie, you look at your feet." Lysara voiced, "It is known."
Lysara turned around and with a swish of her crimson skirts and cloak, she made her way through the courtyard, before venturing towards the Godswood, despite the protests from her mother about wandering off into the woods. Lysara knew that her mother was merely concerned for her after she was found unconscious in the woods, dreaming, that was what she was doing and with dreams, come consequence.
"There you are!" Her mother exclaimed as Lysara entered the chambers, looking on as her mother eyed her red dress carefully, inspecting the dirt that lingered on the train of it. "Why haven't you changed?"
Lysara had found both her mother and sister in her Lady mother's chambers. Her mother stood behind Sansa, who looked on at her in hidden disdain as she eyed her silken crimson dress, that clung tightly to her waist, cinching it in and pushed up her breasts. Lysara clasped her hands together, folding them across her lap as she watched her sister, who was all too pleased with herself letting their mother brush her burnt auburn hair.
Although Lysara loved her siblings, fiercer than she should, she did not have a true relationship with them as she knew it would only hurt them once she left for good, never to come back as she journeyed to help fight off the Great Other. Though, with Lysara and Sansa it has always been particularly tense. Her sister was a Princess in her own right and had been obsessing over the Royal court coming to Winterfell for moon's worth. A pretty porcelain bird, singing of dreams in her cage. Lysara scoffed at those dreams. Her eyes landed on Rickon who ran to her and she hoisted him up, letting his head lay on her chest. She popped out her large hips as he nuzzled himself into her side. And then there was Rickon, she knew her younger brother would most likely try to follow her if she left.
"Why? What is the matter with what I'm wearing?" Lysara asked carefully, as she swayed side to side in order to soothe her brother, placing a long kiss atop of his unruly brown locks.
"It is horrible." Sansa murmured, dragging her eyes.
"As are you," Lysara tells her, holding her chin high in the air. "I'm certain that he will find you most agreeable."
"You have that beautiful, blue gown. You would look more lovely in that." Her mother insisted, ignoring the tension that was rising in the air.
"I do not wear any colour other than red," Lysara commented. "Red is liberating. Red represents my religion."
"Yes, we have noticed." Sansa groaned. "It is a stupid religion. It is nearly wiped out."
"You will not find it as stupid when winter comes," Lysara said bristling, her tone menacing.
"Mother...perhaps I can wear the blue dress if Lysara won't wear it." Her blue eyed sister suggested.
"You do not have the teets nor the hips for it." She retorted, still holding offence over the insult to her religion.
"Mother!" Sansa screeched, astounded.
"I do not want to see either of you fighting, not today of all days," Catelyn said sharply, placing the brush down on the vanity. "You may fight to your heart's content any other day, but not today. Sansa, go and put on your lovely pink gown. You will look beautiful in it. And no more arguing, find Septa Mordane and take Rickon with you."
"It is alright, mother. He would be unsettled if you were to move him, let him dream." Lysara said, her gaze falling from her mother to Sansa. "I wanted to speak with you, mother. Alone."
"I know what you wish to speak about, Lysara." Her mother began, as soon as Sansa had left. "My answer remains 'no'."
"You cannot be serious," Lysara replied, her lips pressing into a firm line. "If you-"
"Do not speak to me in such a manner." Her mother warned, turning to face her fully.
"I am merely saying, why not? There are darker times we will come to face, why waste them with resentment?" She asked.
"If you were in my position, how would it look for your husband's bastard to stand in line with your children to greet a guest, the King and Queen no less?" Her mother inquired, her blue eyes fixated on her dark grey.
"I would accept it. As it would not be in my duty to question my Lord." Lysara says lowly. "It would appear that my Lord husband is caring for all of his children and would never leave one to the shadows, that would slowly consume him."
"This, this is not a topic up or discussion, Lysara." Her mother snapped, slamming the vanity drawer harshly shut, making the mirror and various bottles of perfumes and herbs shake with the vanity.
"He is of my blood." Lysara pressed, clutching Rickon tighter. "You may not call him your 'son', but he is family-"
"You are my family. I do not call him my 'son' because he is not my son." Catelyn said, her voice wavering as she released a deep breath and kept her back turned to her. "Six children have grown inside my womb and sucked on my breast, not seven."
"You outcast Jon for being born through no fault of his own, but what of me?" Lysara asked as she adjusted the snoozing Rickon her lap. "Am I next to be bastardised for who I am? For what I am? Do you think I have not heard of the stories? That...I...I am seen as a monster to some, a monster that mothers warn their children about at night. All because you did not except that Icando things no other can. If Jon does not stand in line simply for being Ned Stark's son...then neither shall I. You wouldn't want a woman worshipping a demon religion to ruin things for you."
"You will do no such thing." Her mother seethed, spinning around sharply on her heel to face her, her face stone and stern. "King Robert will be here within the hour and you will not stand aside. You will stand with your family. You will stand next to Robb and Sansa. You will stand as Lady Lysara of the House Stark-"
"That...that is the point." Lysara breathed. "I am no Lady. I am a Priestess. I know what you think of my religion, you said so yourself, you called it a religion for demons. Therefore, I must be a demon myself. And no one would want to come face to face with a demon...I shan't be greeting the King. I am going to practice my religion in the woods. I will set the false Gods aflame."
"You are being selfish-"
Lysara did not bother to interrupt or give her mother the opportunity to retort as she hoisted the sleeping Rickon up further so that his head was resting on her right shoulder and his legs were wrapped around her waist which allowed her to carry him down the cold hallway. Lysara could hear footsteps behind her and stilled, knowing that it was her mother but did not bother to turn and face her.
"This conversation is not over, daughter." Her mother snaps.
"It is," Lysara replied softly. "I will be present at the feast, bur I will not be greeting the King."