Winterfell
Lysara Stark
Lysara sips from her cup slowly, savouring the sweet yet bitter taste of her tea. She lets her eyes flutter close, inhaling deeply as she relishes as it burns the back of her throat. It is as if she was drinking fire. A smirk twitched on her face, forming and spreading across her features as she thinks on the thought. Lysara takes another sip of the tea, before looking across at the fire crackling and roaring with life beside her. She glances at the dancing flames before turning away, her gaze lands on Jory, watching his chest rise and fall as he sleeps soundly. A soft snore or snort erupts from him every so often causing her to laugh slightly. Though her mind grew conflicted, her thoughts turning away from Jory to how she came to be. R'hllor found me, Lysara thinks fondly and lets her fingers glide across the ruby stone in comfort.
The man in the woods seemed like a lifetime ago, it felt like a lifetime ago when she had first seen hope in the fires. Lysara had been lost, no one was coming to rescue and she had no hope left, as the day had since turned to night. It was a long, dark night and the wind was harsh. Lysara was dying, she felt the icy wind and rain stab her skin harshly, it felt as if a thousand needles were being embedded into her skin. She was dying and frightened and no one was coming to save her. Until...until she caught sight of a large fire and a man deep in prayer.
"O' my Lord of Light, lead us from your darkness and cast your light upon us." Lysara murmured, repeating the man's words that remained in her memory, forevermore. "Fill our hearts with your fire, so that we may walk in your shining path. R'hllor who gave us breath, I thank you. R'hllor who gave us day and takes the savage darkness away, I thank you. Lord of Light who protects us...I thank you."
A worried look makes its way onto her features as she stands, placing her empty cup down and stretches her limbs, enjoying the ache of her muscles as she does so. She ventures towards the window and looks down at the preparations being made for the journey to King's Landing. Lysara once felt the cold like they do and now she cannot imagine how it feels like. Lysara remains fearful, casting her head over to look at Jory before turning to look out the window as two figures appear in her sight; Jon Snow and Jaime Lannister. She tilts her head and watches them with great intensity, they say little to nothing but then again the dark haired boy wasn't one for conversation. As if sensing her gaze, Jon and then Jaime look up. Her eyes narrow, holding their gazes for a period of time before retreating back to her seat at the fire.
"R'hllor." She addresses, her voice hollow and hoarse. "You who cherish the innocent, like that of my brothers and sisters. You who protect us, as the night is dark and filled with terror. Protect them. I pray that you will. Please, I have not asked much if anything of you. It was you who found me and guided me into the light, I ask of you to protect my siblings from the terror. I ask of you to guide my brother Brandon back into the light. If you do so, I will strike down the false Gods. And defend your people against the Others."
"Why are you talking to yourself, lover?" Jory grumbled, turning on his side to face her with bleary eyes and waved her over. "Come here. I'm freezing."
"That's tough." Lysara retorted, picking up his tunic from the floor and chucked it to him. "You leave for King's Landing."
"Aye, that I do," Jory replied, as he sat up but she stilled when a serious look appeared on his features. "Lysara, can you come here?"
"Do you have to ask?" She questioned pointedly, a smirk forming on her features as she crawled onto the bed. He grasped her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. He held her by her wide hip with one hand and with the other he reached up and caressed her pale, soft face softly. Lysara stiffened slightly at the strange, foreign look in his eyes. Her gaze widened as he slipped his hand from her face and down to her left breast and held her tenderly. "Jory?"
"I will not be in King's Landing forever." He said, his eyes reluctant to meet her own. "...I will be coming back to Winterfell when things settle in King's Landing."
"Aye, I know you will come back to me. You can take the Northerner from the North, but you cannot take the North out of the Northerner." Lysara chuckled, brushing her thumb against his pale lips. "It is known."
"...And...well I was thinking..." Jory trailed off, causing her brows to furrow as he tightened his grip on her ever so slightly.
"Thinking?" Lysara repeated, cocking her head and urging him with a hand to his cheek to say what he was thinking.
"I overheard you and your father talking." He admitted a frown on his face as his wild eyes met hers. "I don't want you to marry some Reach Lord."
"I'm glad you agree with me." She said fondly, stroking his dark locks. "I-
"I want to marry you." Jory interrupted forcefully, causing her to still complete her eyes glazing over as she took in his words. "I know...I know, you do not want to marry. I know. You, you are something else Lysara Stark. You are different than any other woman I've met. I don't want a pretty Southern woman to sing me songs nor a gruff Northern woman built for winter. I want you. I want my Red Priestess, who dreams and looks into the fires and can see all. I want the woman who growls the creature of direwolf. You were made to be kissed, often and well."
"I..." Lysara began, her expression awe filled as she felt a tear make a trail down her face.
"Lady Lysara!" A voice demanded, a loud knock with it causing them both to startle. "Lady Lysara!"
"Aye?" Lysara asked breathlessly, startled from her trance and scrambled up to her feet and approached the door. "W-What is it?"
"Your mother is requesting you in your brother, Bran's chambers." The man stated, his voice muffled from the thick wood of the door.
"Let me dress," Lysara said hastily, slipping off her robe, letting it pool at her feet as she rushed for her dress, eyeing Jory carefully as he remained still and silent. "Tell my mother, I will be with her shortly. Is that all?"
"Yes, milady." The messenger replied before she could hear his boots thundering down the hall.
Silence followed, except her heavy laboured breaths as she slipped on her corseted crimson dress. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as she slipped on her black boots and looked over her shoulder at Jory. He rose from the bed, causing her to avert her eyes and look into her mirror as she placed her hair into a braid. Her eyes focused on her tired reflection, before landing back on Jory who approached her side, running his fingers down the back of her neck and then placing a hand on her left shoulder. She reached up and grasped his hand in her own.
"I meant what I said," Jory said sincerely. "I will talk to our fathers if you will let me."
"I must go, Jory," Lysara said tiredly, as she stood up but turned and pressed a kiss to his ear. "Do so."
A smile broke out onto his face, as she hurried out of her chambers, closing the door behind her. Lysara turned her head left then right, checking for anyone lingering in the stone, barely lit hall. With no one in sight, she knocked three times on the door as a signal for his safety and with that she made her way down the hall to her brother's chambers.
"Bring him back to me."
"I will mother, I promise."
Lysara tilted her head up, letting the rain land down her face. It had turned to night and the pack was now divided. Her sisters and father were journeying to King's Landing, Jon Snow was heading to The Wall. She let the rain mingle with her tears, as she stared up at the storm that was brewing in the sky. It will be a long night, Lysara remarked to herself. The wind was screaming and hollowing within the woods, as were the direwolves nearby in the kennels.
Lysara knelt by the small pyre she had made in the woods, working feverishly to keep the raging fire continuously stoked. It may have seemed foolish to those afar, that she was attempting to keep a fire burning during a storm. She found herself uncaring for what others thought, she would worship nonetheless.
"Lord of Light." She murmured. "Come to us in the darkness. Cast your light upon my brother, Brandon Stark. Wake him from his darkened slumber, guide me this night with your great wisdom. Show us the way! For the night is dark and full of terror, but you shall burn the terrors away! I will burn the false Gods."
She placed seven wooden statues representing the Seven into the burning fire, that was forever roaring with new found life. The flames sent another spout of cinders and embers crackling upwards, hitting her face lightly. A mere mortal would feel discomfort sitting this close to a fire, yet she remained completely unfazed by it. Lysara's necklace was glowing dimly underneath the light of the fire.
Lysara remained troubled by what her mother had said to her, she was to do whatever it took to make sure Bran would awaken. And she would do just that, she looked down at the dagger in her hand and clenched her hands into fists, allowing the dagger to slice into her hands. She hissed, closing her eyes in pain, but as she dropped the dagger she took to her feet and raised her hand above the growing fire, letting the blood drip into the flames.
She looked down with intensity at the flames, wondering what she may see and there it was. The old visions had faded, new visions came. Like a newborn phoenix arising from the ashes. It worried her, the end days were nearly upon them as winter was coming closer. She had heard tales of many Red Priests and Priestesses seeking out Azor Ahai, reborn anew. I have already bore witness to him, Lysara thought triumphantly. I ask of him in my fires and I see him.
At last, the flames she so desired reached the right heat and ferocity. Lysara's breath hitched, peering into the heart of the inferno, the storm wiping the fire back and forth along with her hair and dress. There, at the centre of the flame...she saw eyes opening. Whispers filled the air, as she could feel the piercing eyes of the Old Gods on the back of her head but she cared little for them. She could hear the beating of great wings in the darkness. Though with the wind picking up, the howling of wolves caught her attention and she cocked her head to the side, turning to face the stables. And that's when she noticed it...a fire.
Lysara picked up her skirts, stalking over to the stables, uncaring for the dying fire she had left behind and was seeking the bigger one coming from what appeared to be the library. She ventured over to the stables and stared inside at the three direwolves prowling and pacing inside, growling and snarling. Summer, Bran's direwolf was the most vicious of the three, ramming himself against the stable doors. The direwolf stilled, his ears twitching before its golden eyes flickered up and met her own.
"Kill him." She ordered quietly, her voice barely heard but it seemed Summer had, his ears twitching vigorously as she reached for the lock and unlocked it swiftly, sliding the bolt along. Lysara moved hastily aside, as the doors swung open with the wind and with that Summer bolted into the castle, just as many men and women came out with water to calm the dying fire. "Protect my brother and mother."
"Lysara!" A voice yelled, above the chaos. "Lysara!"
Her eyes flickered unfazed to her elder brother, Robb. He looked on at her with narrowed eyes as he strides towards her, his eyes holding anger and worry. Robb's unruly hair lies on his face, covering his eyes slightly as the rain soaks him. She lifts up her skirts and makes her way towards him slowly with Shaggydog and Grey Wind whining and growling at her side. His eyes hands extend and he cups her face, pulling her towards him in a fit of panic.
"What...What were you doing out here?!" He roars, his face falling into one of relief. "You weren't in your chambers!"
"I was praying," Lysara said vaguely.
"I-I...Oh, Gods..." He muttered, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I-I thought you were in the library."
"I'm alright." She assured him, as he brushed wet locks that were sticking to her face away.
"You're soaked." Robb sighed before he unfastened his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Her eyes remained focused on the fire as it was being put out, she blinked, looking on with uncertainty. Whether it was a trick of the light or not, she could have sworn she saw a boy with silver of hair and purple of eye, staring back at her. "Let's get you inside."
"Aye," Lysara said slowly as he escorted her inside the castle.
"Are you alright?" He pressed on worriedly, cupping her cheek. "You look dazed. You haven't hurt yourself have you?"
"No. I'm fine, I just...I just thought I saw something." She reassured him, meeting his eyes. "I can assure you. I'm alright."
"Good. I was-" Robb began, but was interrupted when Theon Greyjoy came hurrying down the hall towards them, his face considerably paling as he approached them.
"Robb...It's your mother and Bran." He panted, trying to regain his composure.
"What of them?" Robb demanded quickly, releasing her and marched towards the dark haired man.
"They were attacked."