Winterfell

Lysara Stark

Lysara clutched her head in pain, at the pressure gradually building up inside of her. She closed her eyes tightly, hissing between her teeth and tried desperately to rid herself of the pain. Visions were passing through her at such a force that they were nothing but misty white blurs with terrifying whispers, suddenly the visions slowed down entirely and she reopened her eyes slowly and saw that she was standing alone in the woods. As she exhaled slowly she could see her breath and looked to her feet, her red boots crunching against the snow that was layered on the ground, yet even then she did not feel cold.

Lysara looked around, turning around hesitantly. All she saw was white, frostbitten trees except for one. The tree that bleeds, the Weirwood tree. Its leaves were a crimson red like that of her dress, she picked up her skirts, a frown on her face, as she looked to see in the far distance, casting a shadow over and the forest was the Wall.

Lysara looked around, turning around with great hesitance. All she saw was white, frostbitten trees except for one. The tree that bleeds. The Weirwood tree. Its leaves were a crimson red like that of her dress, she picked up her skirts and began to walk forward, a form steadily forming on her face as she looked to see in the far distance, casting a shadow over her and the forest was the Wall. It was upon seeing the Wall that she knew she was far from her home of Winterfell.

"So close, yet so far." A voice cawed. A look of disdain made its way onto her face and she turned to see the taunting crow that visited her dreams often, fly above her head and sat on a low branch of the Weirwood tree, so that they were nearly face to face. The black bird tilts its head towards her and continues its mantra. The crow had visited her dreams since she took the Lord of Light as God and ever since, the very bird had mocked her. It's three eyes were trained on her.

"What is it that you want?" Lysara asks boldly, her eyes narrowing towards the crow.

"Many things, sister. Though, I am in need of nothing as of this moment. For now, you will do what you must. I will call for you when you are needed, as of now, you must dream." The crow tells her and with that, the three eyed crow spread his great black wings, that looked to be made of silk and flew from the branch and over her head. Her temper flares as she stares on at the ominous, truth telling bird in flight.

"Why do you torment me?" Lysara shouted towards the crow that disappeared into the icy, white mist that had formed thickly in the woods. Her breath grew shallow, as she tried to peer into the mist but suddenly two bright eyes shown from the mist and a powerful growl sounded out through the woods, shaking the ground and her very soul as her grey eyes met the blue eyes of the creature in the mist.

Lysara stilled, as a massive wolf with a brown pelt stalked towards her slowly. It wasn't the direwolf initially that frightened her, it was the direwolf's eyes. The icy blue eyes held an intelligence, a feral intelligence that made her shudder. Though it did not have two eyes, like one would think, it had three. Like the crow. Her eyes widened even further when she recognised the eyes. The eyes of her brother.

"Bran?" Lysara murmured gravely, looking on at the eyes that held familiarity.

As the beast neared her, the only sounds that could be heard were its paws against the snow as it reached her along with her laboured breaths. Her eyes met the same blue that in a way mirrored her own, they both had eyes that would show all. The past. The present. The future. The direwolf's eyes danced a dance of Kings, Kings that would both rise and fall. The eyes weaved tales of war. And they sang a song of ice and fire. The loud ringing built up in her ears once more and she clutched the sides of her head, as the visions rained a powerful storm down upon her causing her to stumble back.

Lysara gradually fell to her knees, both in pain and in shock, as she witnessed everything that was foretold. Lysara saw her own fate laid out in front of her, along with her brothers, her sisters. Her father and mother. Everything that she held dear would be taken from her, causing her to scream out in agony.

Lysara eventually collapsed to her knees, both in pain and in shock as she witnessed everything that was foretold. She saw her own fate laid out in front of her, along with the fates of her brothers and sisters. Her father and mother. Everything that she held dear would be taken from her, causing her to throw her hands out in front of her and screamed out in agony, tears sliding down her pale cheeks in both pain, fear and sadness. Her heart raced and ached within her chest, her breasts heaving and sweat beading on her forehead which made curls of hair stick to her face.

"W-Why?" Lysara asked shakily, slamming a hand against the ground harshly as she glared at the wolf. "Why?"

The sky grew dark, the white clouds turning to grey and then black, as it turned to night rapidly. Lysara panted slightly, trying to recover from what had happened and kept her eyes on the wolf, never leaving it as the direwolf turned its back to her and began to walk away. She slowly got to her feet but stilled when it turned back to look at her over its shoulder ever few seconds, as it prowled through the snow. Follow, a voice carried with the winds whispered and Lysara followed without any question.

Lysara felt her chest ache as she saw what would happen to Winterfell. To her home. And wondered as she followed the direwolf, how she reached her home once more but then again, nothing in her dreams ever made sense. The whispers of children were heard as she looked around but nevertheless continued to follow the direwolf. As she entered the hollow, empty halls of her home and approached the great hall with extreme wariness. Lysara opened the door wide and was greeted with a burnt out hall with nothing but a large fire pit situated in the middle of the hall.

"Do not take them from me..." Lysara says softly, her voice hollow as the hall while listening to the intense whispers and lets her eyes flutter close. She approaches the pit of burning fire and placed her hands on it and clenched her fingers around it, sucking in a sharp shaky breath. "I do not want this to be my fate...please..."

Lysara looked down at the fire with a frown as she saw a face take shape within the hearth. Jon? Lysara asks herself...but no, it did not take his youthful features. A white face within in a tree began to form. Father? No, it wasn't her father as it began to take shape, a wooden corpse bound to a tree. The flames danced around the figure, never touching him but she stilled when the eyes opened wide and bore into her very soul. He knows I am watching him. Lysara drew back, edging further away from the fire pit out of fear when she felt the power from him.

Her eyes met with the direwolf again and her frown deepened, she lifted up her skirts and gave chase to the wolf that had left the castle. Lysara was brought to the broken tower and tilted her head, frowning in confusion at the direwolf. The blue eyes were staring expectantly at her again before her eyes glazed over when she heard the whispers around her.

"He saw us!" A woman whispered frantically.

"Here take my hand, boy. Before you fall," A man said before his voice was heard once more. "The things I do for love."

A body fell at her feet with a thud, causing a strangled scream to escape her throat when she looked immediately down to the body in horror. Lysara screamed his name, collapsing to her knees before falling over him in a sea of red. Her screams were all she could hear, as her dream faded and she jolted up from her bed.

"Bran!"

I need to find him, Lysara thought as sobs escaped her throat. She tried to calm her beating heart but it only raced harder. Lysara clutched her necklace so tightly, as she slid from her bed, that it seemed clutching onto the ruby of her necklace was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the ground in both shock, fear and heartache. Lysara slipped from her chambers, despite being in her nightgown and scrambled down the stairs barefoot, the rough stone hurting her feet.

Her head began to spin, both her back and ankles felt weak, her leg's were unsteady as the pups when they began to take their first steps. And as she took another step out of the castle, she tripped and fell hard. Lysara threw her hands out and caught herself on the rocky ground, she hissed as the rocks cut deep into her hands. She stumbled back to her feet, shrugging the help off harshly and made her way towards the broken tower, tears blurring her vision.

No...no...please...no! Lysara thought.

Lysara's heart pounded in her chest and her ears heard the harsh beating of her heart, as she made her way to the broken tower. She pushed harshly past people who were going about their early morning duties and focused her mind completely on the tower and her little brother. Lysara turned a sharp corner but her feet slowed to a steady stop, the tears that welled up in her eyes escaped and her throat started to close.

"Bran!" Lysara wailed, almost falling to her knees as she saw her fragile bodied brother lying on the ground, motionless. There was no blood, no screaming nor crying. Nothing. He was still. Her brother's direwolf lay by her brother's head and whined loudly, as he tried to rouse the boy. "Brandon!"

Lysara made her way over to her little brother, falling to her knees and crawled to him, tears falling from her eyes as she shakily brought out a hand and stroked his ice cold cheek, more sobs rose from her throat and escaped her lips. She slid closer to him, gently laying her hand over his parted mouth and she wept in relief. Barely, just barely she could feel his breath across the back of her hand, she pulled her hand away and clutched him light. He's alive.

Her screams that were matched by the direwolf's howls had brought attention to them and her head snapped towards the Keep, hearing yelling and the thunderous sound of many footsteps. She saw a few knights coming around the corner, followed by Maester Luwin and her mother. Upon the sight, her mother let out a loud, piercing scream that made her blood turn cold at the sight of Bran, lying motionless next to her on the harsh ground. Her grey eyes were completely focused on her mother who ran over to them.

"H-How...How did this happen?" Catelyn cried, as she collapsed next to her unable to form any more words.

"I-I don't know," Lysara said with uncertainty.

Her eyes flickered up to the ledge of the window of the broken tower, even though her eyes were blurred and sore with tears, she could make it out. At first, she thought of it as a mere trick of the light but as she continued to stare intently at the tower, as her younger brother was carefully taken away from her hold and she was eventually left alone. The world around her was fading except for the shadows that moved quickly across the room of the tower. And the voices she heard made an icy rage fill her.

Brandon has never fallen, Lysara thought fiercely.

"Come on, Lysara-" A voice said softly, causing her to slowly avert her eyes from the tower and saw Jory, as he hooked his arms underneath her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. "Come on..."

"Bran..." Lysara croaked, closing her eyes and clutched her necklace. "He never falls...h-he never falls..."

Lysara stared blankly ahead as she held Rickon, who had his head buried into her neck and tears streaming out of his eyes, as he wept for their brother. She helplessly tried to soothe him, rocking him back and forth as they made their way through the courtyard, as the wolves continuously howled. Cast your light down upon us, Lysara prayed, knowing that tonight she would burn the Seven. Cast your light down upon us, burn away the terrors. Burn the false Gods.

Lysara's grey eyes fell on Jory as he walked towards her with Arya hoisted on his shoulders. He had been by her side since Bran's fall three days ago, helping her with her younger siblings as much as he could, despite his duties and despite Winterfell being in a state of mourning. Lysara could not put into words how much his presence calmed her. It hurt her thought, it hurt that she could not tell them that he would wake. All she could do was the mantra that 'he will be fine' into her brothers and sisters.

Lysara found it difficult to travel for worship, as she was never alone for a moment since Bran's fall. Her mother was claimed by the darkness, unable to find the light over the grief she held for her son and has been sitting at Brandon's side ever since. Her mother ignored everything and everyone and now she was unwillingly left in charge of her younger siblings, Arya and Rickon. The whole castle was tense and even Arya was acting different, making more and more unconvincing excuses to remain at her side along with Rickon. Lysara, Jory and her younger siblings made their way towards the training yard.

"Arya, take Rickon and go to Robb," Lysara ordered as she set the reluctant Rickon down on the ground. "Tell Robb that I want everyone in the hall so that we can break our fasts and I mean everyone."

"Rickon won't want to leave you. He'll cry." Arya replied immediately as she slid down from Jory's back. Lysara raised her eyebrow slightly, knowing that her sister was using the hold Rickon had over her to her full advantage, but she knew that Arya, in truth, did not want to leave her side either. "We have to stay with you."

"I will be present in the hall, this time, you can eat with me. Alright?" She offered, hoping that if she would stay in the hall to eat, which she rarely did, would make them leave but it didn't work. Lysara sighed, bending down slightly and smoothed out Rickon's damp and unruly hair. "Now...off you go. Both of you."

"I'm not hungry." Arya insisted, her grip tightening on her arm.

"You are. You haven't eaten since yesterday morn. And your belly is growling louder than Nymeria." Lysara remarked, sending her a knowing stare. "Now, take your brother and go down to the hall to eat otherwise, you will waste away."

Arya eyed her and huffed, before snatching Rickon by the hand and dragged her brother, who sniffed and pouted towards Robb, Theon and Jon. Arya's lips were moving quickly but it seemed her message was being delivered, as Robb's blue eyes flickered to her and she nodded lightly to him. Robb bent down low and hoisted Rickon into the air as Jon took Arya by the hand, leading them into the castle with Theon trailing slightly behind them, no doubt annoyed that they couldn't spar.

"Those who give the order must follow through. And you aren't following through." Jory commented drily.

"I cannot eat. I'm too exhausted." Lysara breathed, a frown forming on her face. "Rickon seems to have taken up permanent residence in my chambers and I even find Arya coming into my chambers in the dead of night, too fretful to sleep on her own. And if you take their direwolves into account..."

"I've noticed," Jory remarked, a small smirk forming on his face.

Lysara moved quickly, looking around for anyone in the yard before she pulled him into a shadowy corner behind the stables and reached up, grasping him by the back of the neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss. He remained shocked for a moment before he slowly reached up cupping her face in his gloved hands and smiled against her mouth, as their nose and foreheads touched. Her scorching skin against his cold skin.

"I've missed your lips." He breathed, as their lips parted.

"I have told you many a time, but I-" Lysara began but was interrupted as he leant in for another kiss, she moved her head aside and pressed her finger gently against his lips, keeping her eyes locked on his. "Let me finish. You have treated me more kindly than I deserve. I do not know how I would be coping if you weren't helping me with my siblings. Thank you. May the Lord smile down upon you."

Jory pulled away and smiled softly before he placed a long meaningful kiss to her lips. Lysara held his wrists in her hands, giving him a slanted smile when he released her. He never did need words to express himself.

"Would you like me to walk you to your chambers?" He asked, but she could hear the teasing in his voice while he tucked a long strand of her hair behind her ear, causing her to smirk lightly.

"No. You should go to my father. I am certain he is looking for you as of this moment." She said as he pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before slipping back into the yard.

Lysara looked on, smiling slyly at his retreating figure before she straightened out her skirts and strolled back into the yard but stilled when she heard the gruff, raspy voice of Sandor Clegane. The Hound. Lysara took a few steps back and hid in the shadows, watching both the Hound and the tyrannical Prince Joffrey from them.

"The boy is a long time dying," Sandor stated. She stared at him intently, glowering at them darkly. "I wish he would be quicker about it."

"At least he will die quietly." The Prince sneered. "I could scarcely sleep last night because of those damned wolves."

Lysara's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing as her sharp nails dug into the palms of her hands. Little bastard, she thought to herself as she looked on at the unfazed brat. He was more concerned about his good night rest rather than the fact her crippled brother might die. Sandor Clegane's eyes moved around the courtyard, causing her to quirk an eyebrow. Before long he lowered the black helm in the shape of the very animal he was named after over his scarred face and head.

"If it pleases you, I will silence the creature." The Hound said, slicing his sword into the cold morning air and by the looks of it, the notion seemed to delight the lion.

"Sending a dog to kill a dog!" Joffrey exclaimed, maliciously gleeful. "This cold, barren wasteland is infested with wolves, the Stark's will never miss one."

Her blood began to boil, the whispers she always heard picking up as she grew angrier and when she lifted her skirts, about to emerge from the shadows, she noticed Lord Tyrion had made his way towards them before she could attack. Lysara stood rigidly in the background to observe the scene unfolding in front of her.

"I beg to differ, nephew," Tyrion said. "Unlike some Princes I might name, the Stark's can count past seven."

"A voice from nowhere," Sandor retaliated causing Joffrey to laugh ignorantly.

"Mother is looking for you," Joffrey leered. "We ride for King's Landing today."

"I am in no mood for any insolence from you today," Tyrion replied, before pointing to Joffrey. "Nephew, before you go. You will call on Lord and Lady Stark, and you will offer your utmost sympathies and comfort."

"What good will my sympathies do them?" The blond haired bastard snorted.

"None," Tyrion informs him. "Yet it is expected of you, your absence has already been noted."

"The Stark boy means nothing to me," Joffrey scoffed. He is no Prince, Lysara remarked to herself. "I cannot stand the wailing of women."

Lord Tyrion without a second thought, reached up and slapped his nephew hard across the face. Her eyes rose in surprise but nevertheless looked on in satisfaction when she saw Joffrey, look on his uncle with offence and hurt, as he reached up and clutched his reddened and without any doubt, aching cheek.

"One more word-" Tyrion said, pointing a finger in warning at him. "And I hit you again."

"I'm telling mother!" Joffrey screeched but Lord Tyrion slapped him once more, this time on his other cheek and she closed her eyes, basking in Joffrey's screams.

"You tell her," Tyrion replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "But before you do, get yourself to Lord and Lady Stark and fall to your knees in front of them, and you will tell them how deeply sorry you are, and that you are at their service. And see if there is the slightest thing you can do for them in their desperate hour of need and that your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

The boy's eyes welled up with tears and she looked on, filled with pleasure at the thought he would cry. Though instead, he managed a weak nod and turned, fleeing from the yard, holding his cheeks and tried to hide his humiliation. Lysara watched in satisfaction as he ran, listening briefly to the words exchanged by the Hound and the lion Lord before Sandor Clegane slowly followed after the bastard boy.

"It is true then-" Lysara voiced, as she emerged from behind the stables and approached Tyrion. "The smallest of men do cast the largest of shadows."

"Lady Lysara." He said, bowing his head.

"I must admit, I was greatly satisfied that you left a lasting impression on the future King." Lysara drawled as Lord Tyrion raised his head, a small smile on his face.

"I hope you were out of earshot and did not hear the words exchanged." He replied.

"The plot to kill my brother's direwolf or the various insults on my family?" She inquired, causing him to sigh heavily. "No, fortunately, I was too busy wondering how on earth that child could be such a bastard until I realised who his parents are...I hope that did not offend you, my Lord."

"My apologies for my nephew's insensitivity," Tyrion said sincerely before his lips turned into a teasing smile. "If he knew a Red Priestess in the flesh overheard him, I wonder how long it would take for him to shit himself."

"Many thanks, Lord Tyrion. Though you do not have to apologise for the likes of him, he will never apologise for anything." Lysara said. "I have come to not acknowledge nor accept apologies on the behalf of another. If we all did that, all of us would never stop saying sorry."

"Still...I am sorry." Tyrion stated. "For example, I am sorry to hear of your brother's fall. And I am sorry that you were the one to come across him. If there is anything myself or my family can do to ease your pain, please do not hesitate to ask."

"I will keep that in mind," Lysara noted softly.

"What of the boy? How is his condition?" The man inquired.

"He will wake." She said firmly, her eyes hardening. "I am sure of it."

"It is always good to be faithful," Lord Tyrion answered. "Will he be able to w-"

"No." Lysara interrupted lowly, knowing what he would ask. "He may not be able to walk but he may fly."

"I am truly sorry then." He said solemnly.

"As am I." She said coolly. "If only I had gotten there sooner. Though, I cannot fathom how this came to be. Brandon has never fallen, my brother has always been sure footed and has never slipped nor lost his balance. Ever. There was no reason for him to fall. I can't understand how it happened. I already investigated the tower."

Tyrion offered her his arm, lifting his arm higher than most men would and she accepted his offer gratefully, lacing her hand around his arm. Lysara slowed her pace to walk with him as they made their way towards the hall. As they entered the hall, she could see her siblings gathered around a table in silence while her eyes landed on the Queen, the Kingslayer and the three green eyed children. Lysara gave Cersei Lannister a knowing stare as she made her way further into the hall with Tyrion as her siblings called for her.

"You need not worry, Lady Stark." He urged. "I am sure he will wake."