Winterfell

Lysara Stark

"Lysara."

Lysara blinked, her surroundings coming back to her. She couldn't get rid of the dream that was lingering, she couldn't get rid of the piercing purple eyes out of her head nor his voice. A thud drew her attention away from the letter that she was staring at to Theon, practising his archery. Lysara grasped a dark brown lock that was curling in front of her eyes and placed it behind her ear as she stared intently at the Kraken.

Robb was with Ser Rodrik, no doubt discussing important matters. It had been two weeks since Lord Tyrion had left Winterfell and Robb had thought their mother would be home by now but she knew that wasn't the case. Her youngest brother Rickon was with Old Nan and she was in the courtyard watching over Brandon's lessons with Maester Luwin. She raised her brows in anticipation as Theon fired another arrow and watched as it landed dead centre. Maester Luwin's voice drew her attention back to him and Brandon's lesson. It seemed that she was not the only one that was distracted by Theon. Her brother was too, he held a look longing on his face and stared at Theon as he reloaded his bow with an arrow.

"Brandon-" Lysara chided. "Pay attention."

This seemed to bring her younger brother out of his trance, his brow furrowed before he turned his attention to her briefly with a confused look before Maester Luwin called on him once more. Lysara let curiosity take over and craned her neck to see that Maester Luwin was teaching Bran to identify a map of Westeros and its houses, both houses that have fallen and risen. She shook her head before returning back to Arya's letter, despite the childish scribbles of her younger sister, the news disturbed her the more she read it.

Lysara,

It's horrible! The Queen's horrible! The King's horrible! Joffrey's horrible! Sansa's horrible! I hate them. All of them! I wish you were here, Lysara. You would have stopped it. Joffrey had attacked my friend so I attacked him, it ended with Nymeria biting him...but only a little, I still hope it hurt him, though. I hate the Queen the most, she sentenced Lady to die when Lady never did anything wrong!

I like King's Landing...it's okay. Father says I could take up sword lessons, I do as you say and I listen to every lesson I get from Syrio Forel. I have to chase cats all the time as one of my lessons...but it's fun! I have nearly caught all of the cats besides one. I decided to name it after you. Sara, I call it. It's a cat with dark fur and red eyes. It reminded me of you a bit. I had asked father today if he was going to send you a letter too but he says it would make you happier if I did!

I'll see you soon!

Arya.

I forgot to ask you: Do you reckon you could place a curse on Joffrey?

Lysara lets a chuckle escape her lips as she read the end of the letter. She was beginning to contemplate on what Arya had requested, perhaps she could send the Lord of Light's relentless wrath his way. The boy would piss his pants at the mere sight, Lysara remarked to herself, humming slightly as she pinched the folded letter between her fingers and tucked it into the sleeve of her dress. Though despite the light at the end of the letter she thought back to the darker part of the letter. Lady. Her dream made sense now than it did last night. Her father did not kill her, he killed Lady.

"The Iron Islands," Bran stated, drawing her attention back to her brother who was staring at the map of Westeros. "Their sigil, a Kraken. And their words; We do not sow."

"And their Lords?" Maester Luwin questioned as Bran glanced over to Theon.

"The Greyjoys," Her brother answered which made her lips twitch into a small smile.

"Famous for their skills at archery, navigation and of course...lovemaking," Theon drawled, turning to face them with a smug smirk permanently etched onto his features. He looked her way and winked in her direction causing her to scoff at the prospect. She let out a dry and fake laugh, causing him to throw his head back and laugh loudly. Lysara shared a look with Maester Luwin.

"And for failed rebellions," Maester Luwin retorted.

A satisfied smirk appeared on her face as she saw the smugness in Theon's face dramatically fade. He wasn't amused by the remark and when Maester Luwin turned his own and Bran's attention back to the map of Westeros, he pretended that he was shooting at the Maester. She gave him an amused glance before facing Bran, who continued with his studies. Lysara sneered inwardly when he got to House Lannister and her mind instantly went to the Lannister twins. She was glad that he did not know of their words. Serpent's words.

"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken..." Bran trailed off, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

"House Martell," Lysara informed him as his brows furrowed further in both agitation and confusion.

"Fire and Blood," Her brother replied.

It became clear to her then that her younger brother did not even care to try anymore. She could feel the tension from him. Let R'hllor take your darkness, Lysara prayed dutifully as she kept her eyes firmly trained on Brandon. And let him cast his light down upon you once more. She could see the familiar bitterness appear in his eyes and she was reminded once again that the Lannister twins would pay for what they have done to him and what they would do to her family.

"House Targaryen," She corrected.

"Family. Duty. Honour," Brandon said angrily, clenching his jaw.

"Those are your mother's words. House Tully," Maester Luwin stated firmly.

"Family. Duty. Honour. Is it even in the right order?" Bran questioned sardonically.

"You know it is," The Maester says, as their eyes meet and they both share a worried glance.

"Family-" Her younger brother began, his voice growing cold as the icy winds of Winterfell and his face hardened with each word. "We are meant to come first, are we not?"

"Brandon," Lysara bit sharply, eyeing him carefully. "You ought to know that our mother left Winterfell was to protect you. To protect us."

"Lady Catelyn left to protect the family," Maester Luwin explained, a tad kinder and gentler than she.

"How can she protect the family, if she isn't with her family-" Bran began, but she interrupted him.

"You are not being reasonable," Lysara snapped. "Mother stayed by your side for a moon's worth."

"She left!" Brandon seethed as her face turned sour.

Lysara rose from her seat, her face turning impassive and turned as he opened his mouth once more. She lifted her skirts and decided for her sake and her brother's that she would take a stroll in the woods nearby Winterfell to calm herself. I have never once raised a hand to my siblings, Lysara thought coldly casting a cold glance over her shoulder to her brother as she walked away. And I will not start now.

Lysara heard footsteps approach from behind her and turned around on her heel swiftly to meet with a stable hand running for her, a letter clutched tightly in his hold. Her lips and brows frowned as she made her way to the brown haired boy and took the letter from his sweaty hold, inspecting the writing. Mother, Lysara concluded as she recognised the delicate hand.

"A raven-" The boy panted, "A raven from your, my Lady."

"Thank you," Lysara thanked, reaching into the pocket of her red dress and passed him a coin. "Here."

"Thank you, my Lady!" He chirped, his face lighting up as he grasped the coin tightly in his hand before running off back to the stables.

Lysara took her sharp nail and dragged it along the seam of the letter, breaking the black wax seal. She unfolded the letter and her face turned grim, the harsh whispers becoming present in the air. Her mother's letter was not by any means good news, she had written to her of Tyrion Lannister and the blade. Her mother wrote that she was wrong in accusing the Lannister twins when it was, in fact, Tyrion as the blade belonged to him. Mother's wrong, Lysara thought furiously. It was them. I heard them. I saw him. I found the necklace. The Kingslayer admitted it. Her mother was now residing in the Eyrie and had taken him as her prisoner to Lysa Arryn.

You are the keeper of my secrets. You cannot tell anyone of these words. No one. Not Maester Luwin nor Robb. You must keep this a secret.

Lysara's breath hitched, she could not fathom the fact that her mother had taken Lord Tyrion to the Eyrie. To her aunt, Lysa Arryn. In the ten and six years that she has lived, Lysara has only met her aunt three times. Once when she was three not that she had remembered much, the second time she was taken was when she was eight and the third time when she was ten and one. Her eyes narrowed, her aunt had once told her she would fit perfectly in the Eyrie. It was an elegant and peaceful place. Her aunt was also doting and was prideful over the fact that she was named after her. Lysara knew the truth behind the woman's motives when she grew wiser, she had seen it in her aunt's eyes. Marriage.

Lady Lysa was a stricter and sterner woman than her mother and did not hold a candle to her mother's beauty, her many years in the Vale hardened her aunt. It was not until after many years of trying, that she had finally given birth to a boy. Robert, or more commonly known as Robin. Sweet Robin was now eight from one of the many frequent letters she received from her aunt Lysa. Lysara still wondered if the manic woman still breastfed him.

In truth, everyone knew including herself that her sickly cousin was not long for this world and as the years became darker, her aunt quickly turned paranoid. Her cousin was the sole heir and Lord of the Vale after all. Lysa had discovered her abilities as a Red Priestess and this twisted obsession the woman somehow had on her grew, the woman was determined that she would one day become the wife of her son despite her being eight years his senior. Lysara had to suppress a shudder then at the mere thought of it.

Lysara looked to the grey clouds swirling in the sky and smirked. She shook her family from her thoughts and thought on R'hllor. It was normal for her to pray and sing to R'hllor beside the fire within her chambers but she could sense that tonight would be a perfect night to dance around the fire. Her powers were weakened, though she also took that as exhaustion taking its toll on both her body and mind. A fire dance is what she desired. I need to see more than mere glimpses, Lysara remarked to herself.

Lysara had made her way back to her chambers and tucked the letter up her sleeve, keeping it close to Arya's, she hoped that burning them would give her a more clear insight as to what was happening. As she entered her chambers she found Rickon sat on her bed with a sleeping Shaggydog at his side. Her lips twitched into a soft smile before she glanced at the food. Luncheon, Lysara thought just as her stomach made a noise of protest from lack of food. She did not doubt that he most likely carried it to her chambers himself. Lysara made her way towards him and sat beside him on the bed, picking up a honey cake and eyed Rickon as she bit into it.

"Lysara?"

"Yes, my wolf pup. What is it?" Lysara asked, as she stuck out her tongue slowly and licked the honey from her sticky lips.

"Are you okay?" Rickon asked innocently as he too picked up a cake and devoured it.

"I am alright, my wild wolf." She lied, who thankfully accepted her answer.

The fire drew her in. It wasn't just the warmth of the rising flames, it was the whispers that came along with the dance. The night had come, cold and harsh as promised, the winds allowed for the fire to grow fiercer. Lysara looked into the flames as she made around the fire, she could feel the scorching heat of the fire create sweat, that trickled down her skin. The sweat beaded on her forehead, between her breasts and down her spine. Her chest was heaving and her lips parted to suck in the cold air. Her eyes grew hazy and she found herself unable to look away from the flames.

"The King of the North!" Voices roared, causing her trance to break.

She stilled, wondering if it was some mere trick on her ears. Lysara knelt by the flames, placing her hands on the dry ground and stared intently at the fire that once danced with her. Her eyebrow arched softly as the whispers picked up with the wind. Lysara gasped as she saw her siblings in the flames and watched in awe as they took the shape of animals. Of direwolves. Howls echoed throughout the woods as the winds battered against her fiercely causing the fire to hiss as the rain started to fall from the dark sky. She became transfixed by the crackling fire, unable to pull away as it ensnared her with its allure.

"Valar Morghulis." Arya? Lysara frowned, listening intently to the whispers.

"Only the monsters live," said Sansa, as her voice was drowned out by the blood curdling screams.

"Promise me, Ned." A woman breathed. "Promise me..."

"I'm your brother," Bran's voice whispered, causing her eyes to widen at what she saw. "I'm meant to protect you."

"Rickon!" Lysara rasped.

Lysara scrambled back, falling on her backside as she let out a gasp, the pull that the fire had once had on her was gone along with the visions in the flames. Her eyes searched frantically in the flames but she saw nothing more other than shadows. She crawled towards the fire in desperation, her eyes wide and frightened.

"No! Lysara snarled. "I need to know!"

A bird sounded out, its caw familiar causing her head to snap up just as a black winged bird flew above her head before vanishing. Lysara took to her feet hastily and looked around the tall trees vigorously in search for the bird until her two eyes landed on three. Her grey eyes narrowed significantly as it cawed at her once more, it appeared to be laughing. It cocked its head to the side, almost as if it were mocking her.

"You!" She swore lowly, her eyes ablaze.

It tilted its head once more as if to confirm its presence and the fact it was mocking her. The feeling of something watching her other than the bird set paranoia within her, after all, anyone can merely come across her and attack while she was singing for the sun to shine once more. Her eyes widened as the familiar whisper of her name was heard and she turned around slowly, her knees shaking as she stared into the flames. The shadows seemed to be twisting and turning, almost as the shadows were getting ready to take off into flight when she heard her name once more. As she approached the flames, desperate for answers, a twig snapped behind her causing her to gasp. Lysara turned only to collide with a hard chest, they grasped both her wrists causing her head to snap up immediately and a frown formed on her face.

"This is a sacred worship," Lysara breathed and eyed Robb with hesitance. "Leave."

"Evening," Robb replied with a dry tone. "It's Rickon, he's taken ill. I reckon it's from all those cakes he ate but he still wants you."

"Tell him-" Lysara began, trying to regain her breath. "I will be with him once the fire dies down. I can't leave it unattended."

"It's raining," Her blue eyed brother pointed out, though the grey eyed woman stiffened when she saw the look in his eyes. He knows.

"What is it?" Lysara asked carefully, knowing that there was something other than Rickon's well being that was bothering Robb.

"Rickon is under the impression that you will be leaving Winterfell. I asked him why and he thinks that you are hiding something," Robb answered causing her to still. "I must say, I do too and so does Bran. Theon says that shortly after you left he saw the stable boy hand you a letter today. This would be the second letter you have received today, am I right?"

"They were merely letters from Arya and Sansa," Lysara said smoothly but she inwardly cursed the kraken. "It was nothing of importance, merely Arya and Sansa talking of their well being and time in King's Landing. Arya's letter was quite entertaining, nothing new has happened. She still hates everyone and everything other than the swordplay lessons that she has been receiving. And Sansa...let's just say she is too entranced with the supposed fairy tale life of King's Landing. Though I suppose any girl her age would be overjoyed at the prospect of being married to the future King of Westeros."

"You aren't just any girl, though, Lysara. You know what people call you...they call you the Red Lady. I thought it was fitting," Robb said, a smile appearing on his face and it seemed he believed her lie causing her to roll her shoulders to try and ease off the tension. "You give people such cold looks. I swear its like I am in the presence of a White Walker."

"I will see to Rickon," Lysara said firmly and took note of his tired face. "You need rest. It has been a trying and testing week. Sleep well, Robb."

Robb sighed, nodding his head in agreement before pressing his lips to her forehead and walked away, no doubt making his way back to his chambers. Lysara waited a few moments before following after her older brother, lifting up her red skirts. She paused, feeling the letters in her sleeve and pulled them out. Lysara sighed, pressing a kiss to each letter before throwing them in the dying fire. She watched blankly as the pieces of parchment turned black and eventually turned to ash. The lion and the wolf would come to blows and she could nothing about it, all she could do was protect her family from what was to come.

"-For the night is dark and full of terrors," Lysara finished her prayer aloud before turning and began to walk away from the fire that slowly died down.