The Land Beyond The Wall
Lysara Stark
Lysara kept silent and stared impassively ahead, staring at nothing but the back of an oak coloured horse that the Wildling named Daramyr was riding. She tried to keep what little dignity she had left as she made her way through the deep and cold snow, tugging every so often at the thick ropes that were bound to her wrists. All she could think of was her brothers, her brothers that she could no longer protect and felt nothing but anger towards the man in front of her. You cannot tame a wolf, Lysara thinks to herself. I am a wolf.A harsh jerk from the rope makes her arms outstretch and she stumbles forward.
The man with hair kissed by fire turns and faces her, a smug smile present on his face as his eyes take in her exhausted face and he turned back to face the non existent road ahead of them and laughed, throwing his head back as he let out howls. Lysara hated this man, she hated most people but this man she hated with a burning passion as she stared at him with narrowed and cold eyes. How dare he laugh, this is not a matter to be laughed at!This man was crude and left her with a headache that throbbed after she had finally regained consciousness.
It was a shock to her that she was beyond the Wall, it was beautiful but it was a cruel beauty. A harsh beauty. A beauty that she did not want to experience fully. Her wrists were burning and her legs and feet were aching from the amount of walking she had to do through the deep and dangerous snow as she knew that one fall may end her life as they made their way across the mountainous area. All I see is ice and snow,Lysara thinks to herself. But soon I will see fire and blood.
"Come on, my red Princess," He calls to her. I am not yours. "Keep moving. If you do not, you will freeze."
"I will not freeze," Lysara informs him lightly, despite the fury she felt. "The light of R'hllor keeps me warm. I have fire inside of me."
"Rollo?" Daramyr slurs, trying to pronounce the name. "Who's that? Is he your husband?"
"No. I have no husband," She answers. "The Lord of Light is my God. R'hllor, he is the true God."
"Gods," He scoffs and rolls his eyes before he looks ahead. "I care very little about them. All we Free Folk care for is the food in our bellies and if we will live to see the next day without turning into a wight. It looks like we were close, travelling in the dead of night cost me a night's worth of sleep but it was worth it, I did not have to worry about a crazed red woman lunging at me with a dagger. I was doing a bit of spy work for Mance, I have been watching you for days and might I say, pretty lass, that you have a pretty arse? The giant, not so much. Are you a Queen of Wolves? That damned wolf of yours bit me thrice! Then another bastard wolf came along and started to attack my horse. You'd think stealing you would be an easy task, lass, I can assure you that it wasn't. It was bloody horrible. I've had a terrible time and they say that red hair is lucky, my arse! I think that you are an omen of some sort, it seems that the people around you have the worst luck..."
"You have stolen me away from me brothers. I will never forgive you," She murmured, trying to not roll her eyes.
"I did not steal you because I wanted you, I stole you for my people and you will help us, if not...I will take your head." Daramyr said firmly.
"It was not Mance Rayder that desired me," Lysara corrects him. "It was Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg. It was not until the birth of the dragons did he sing of my name. I dreamt of Mance after you decided to take it upon yourself to knock me unconscious. I thank you, I would not have been able to obtain the information I needed without your help. "
"How the fuck did you know that? That is some creepy shite, lass!" The Wildling responds, before taking a glance back at her blank face and started to laugh. It was a boisterous sound and she wondered how it could come from such a man, she has not been able to laugh since she saw the dead in her dreams. As she stared into his eyes, she saw a fear, a fear hidden by various emotions, most of his feelings were of confliction but his eyes let her see all and she feared for what was to come. "I can't complain, though, I stole myself a pretty southern woman. That spiteful bastard Tormund will be in a mood that I came back with you. He made a bet that I wouldn't and look at us now, leagues beyond the Wall with the bower to flames at my side."
"I am not from the South," She tells him. "I am from the North."
"No. You are a southerner to us Free Folk," Daramyr retorts, letting out a chuckle. "All that belongs north of the Wall is southern to us, wearer of red. You look a bit like that crow...did you know that bastard wolf of his stole my hunt. It was the first deer I had seen in weeks and the moment my arrow struck it, that wolf ran off with it."
"Jon Snow," Lysara said, staring ahead as she minds her footing. And Ghost, how I have missed you both. "He is blood of my blood."
"It's too bad that I have gotten to you first," He said, a smirk crawling onto his face. "You won't be seeing your pretty brother anytime soon."
"Your little war with the crows to get beyond the Wall is nothing compared to the war that is coming. It is rather amusing actually, that you actually think that getting beyond the Wall will keep you safe. It will...but only for a time," She informed him, his normally pink face turned white at her mentioning this. "My white wolf will listen to me, I know he will. The army of the dead are riding with the winds of winter and if the realms are guarded by a united people, we will live. I do not want us to fail, it is not in our Lord of Light's will to let us fail, so you must take me to Jon Snow. You must take me to him! If you do, I swear that both you and your people will get beyond that Wall before the dead come for us."
"You'd actually side with us?" Daramyr asked hesitantly, casting a glance at her over his shoulder and this time he rode a tad gentler, allowing her wrists to fall back to her lap. "You jest, wearer of fire."
"You are not monsters. No matter where we are from or who we are, we all bleed the same, it is known," She says simply, her voice barely above a whisper and keeps her eyes downcast as she trudges through the snow, her toes curling tightly in her boots as she took care in not slipping in the snow or the ice covered stones. "If I were born beyond the Wall...I would do everything within my power to ensure that my family could live. It is a sad song I must sing about my family. A family that I long for but shall never touch as they will always be out of my reach by the tips of my fingers. I learned upon the death of my father, that they can take everything from me...my hope...my pride...my life...but by R'hllor, nothing will stop me upon the day they come for my brothers..."
"We are here, lass," He informs her gruffly, causing her to stiffen and she looks up. "Do not fret, my little red lass. I will protect you, I swear by it."
It was a large encampment filled with life as the Wildling tended to their affairs, she stares at them in wonder as she passes them and some still when their eyes land on her and the camp slowly turns silent as she was brought further into the camp. The eyes of hundreds if not thousands were on her as she trailed through the camp, Daramyr dismounted from his horse and led it to a nearby woman who took the reins and led the brown horse away as he continued to make his way through the Wildling camp with her.
The scruffy red haired man led her towards a large hut, adorned in heavy furs and she could faintly hear music emitting from it and she could scarcely believe. It was not something she has ever heard of before, music beyond the Wall. It played a joyful tune on a lute that was all too familiar with her as she and the Wildling man entered the hut and her eyes landed on the many Free Folk gathered in the large hut. Her eyes landed particularly on a man who was playing the lute and singing in a language that brought a chill down her spine.
The Old Tongue,Lysara thought to herself. A tongue so ancient and old that it is nearly lost to Westeros.
Although she did not understand it, she could pick up certain words such as the words 'white' and 'snow' from it. For a mere moment, she was in the great hall of Winterfell with her family surrounding her. Her sister Sansa would sigh dreamily at the delightful and soothing melodies that would come from the lute but when livelier tunes picked up her younger siblings would dance around wildly to the songs the King beyond the Wall sang. The man was sat beside two beautiful blonde women and before long, his eyes opened and the brown eyed man looked towards her but nevertheless continued to play the instrument until the song came to an end.
"Mance," Daramyr addressed, pushing her further towards Mance Rayder. "I have brought you the wearer of red."
"The woman is red," The first blonde woman snaps. "She is terrible and red. How is that girl any use to us?"
"I heard the red folk can bring back folk from the dead..." The second woman replies, a hint of a smirk on her face. "No better than the Night's King, if you ask me."
"You are all that I expected and more, Lysara Stark," The man speaks up, placing his lute down as he stands.
He unsheathes a dagger from his belt and approaches her, raising the dagger slightly and grasps her wrists with his other hand before bringing the dagger down on the rope, cutting her bindings. Mance Rayder hacks at it and when the rope slides from her wrists and drops to the ground, he releases her wrists causing her to immediately clasp them behind her back. Lysara eyes him carefully, watching his every move before he brings up his hand and goes to caress her cheek with the back of it but she takes a step back and hisses at him.
"Do not touch me," Lysara snarls quietly, the fire pits roaring with newfound life causing a few of the Free Folk to let out startled noises.
In the large hut, there was five or six fire pits and all she wished for was that they would topple over and set the hut alight with her and her captors in it. All she wanted was her brothers, brothers who were in grave danger and she could not get to them. Lysara has never felt such humiliation, such hopelessness and all she wanted to do was stand back and watch the entire world burn as she basks in the flames that she has always had and always known.
"I do not have to touch you and I can feel the fire from your skin," Mance mutters. "You have come a long way. I want to talk about-"
"I know what you wish to discuss," She spits harshly, taking another step back but a hand on her back stops her.
"You do?" The younger of the blonde woman inquires. "I told you before, Mance. The lass is nothing but a witch, slit her throat and be done with it!"
"You can't do that I'm afraid," Daramyr drawls. "I already made a promise to protect her."
"You do not understand. You have to take me to Jon Snow-" She begins but is interrupted, causing her to grow agitated.
"I am not going to hand you over to that crow," The King beyond the Wall said. "You do not make commands, Lysara. You are beyond the Wall. You no long belong to the land where you must kneel."
"You must. The night is coming and it will be a long one," Lysara explains. "I have dreamt of spring and it will come again. You may look to Jon Snow and see a crow while others may see a bastard. You are wrong. The entirety of Westeros is wrong. He is the Lord's chosen, I have seen him in the flames. I have seen him leading our fight against the army of the dead, against the darkness and the Long Night. I have seen the army of the dead in the flames and they are coming. The flames have never lied to me. My Lord has never lied to me. The prophecy says that when the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be reborn amidst smoke and salt. If you take me to Jon Snow, I will bring you beyond the Wall. You can help me reclaim Winterfell. I can offer you and your people refuge in my home."
"You honestly believe this?" Mance Rayder asks slowly, after a long period of silence.
"Aye," She fiercely said. "I do. I would not be here otherwise."
"I have never heard such shite!" A man growls, causing her to turn around and face a burly man dressed heavily furs.
"Enough, I wish to hear what else the deluded red wearer has to say," The second blonde haired woman leers.
"Are we honestly going to listen to the likes of her? A Stark! A little girl!" The man roars, ignoring the blonde woman who was telling him to stand down but he did not as he continues to rile up the crowd of Wildlings that were gathered in the hut. The fire began to dance wildly as she took their angered faces in. "Have they not oppressed us? Have they not starved us? Enslaved us? Have they not killed thousands if not millions of our people? That fucking wall was built by a Stark and we were left behind to die because of it! That girl is nothing but a kneeler and kneeler she will stay! I say enough! Why should we listen to her? Why should we follow her? I say we rip her head off and send it back to the very crow that betrayed us and killed our kind! Mag the Mighty lies! We have no need of her, no matter what Mance says."
"Leave her alone! You are one to talk!" A freckled face woman with fiery hair snarls, giving him a rough shove which makes them break into a brawl, fists and weapons were flying and clashing. All she could do was watch in both fascination and in fear, she has only seen the likes of this kind of fighting between feral animals.
Her eyes widened slightly as many Wildlings began to advance on them with their weapons raised as they chanted a war cry for her death, despite Mance's commands they did not listen and even when Daramyr tried to calm them down they did not listen. It seemed he kept to his word though as he stood in front of her with his weapon raised and pointed it towards any man or woman who came close to her.
They are wild like their namesake, Lysara thinks to herself.
A hand roughly grasped her by her hair and tugged her towards them causing her back to collide with their chest and an arm wrapped around her throat, her breath hitched and she let her eyes flutter close but the moment the knife met her neck an unearthly and guttural roar made everyone quieten as it shook the very hut. What was that?Lysara asks but before she could answer, the knife was away from her neck and she was shoved back towards Mance.
"The giants," He murmured, his eyes looking towards the door before they fell back to her. "They have been longing to meet you."
"Giants?" Lysara repeated with furrowed brows.
The giants are no more,she thought to herself and it was a sad song. It always brought tears to her eyes when the bards sang ballads of giants or her Old Nan told her stories about the giants. Mance Rayder grasped her by the arm and began to drag her towards the door but her mind was focused intently on the tragic tale of giants. The door opened wide and she was instantly greeted with a sight that made her heart nearly stop. Her eyes focused on their large feet before she let her eyes trail up their large body until her eyes landed on them. They were bigger than Hodor and bigger than any castle she has come across. Her eyes widened when their eyes met and their roars became quiet snarls, the giant's beady eyes were trained on her. It...It cannot be...
"Mag the Mighty," Mance addresses him loudly. "We meant Lysara Stark no harm, I promise. No blood has been spilt."
Lysara frowns and wonders what he meant by this but nevertheless she was entranced by standing in front of the nineteen perhaps twenty foot giant. It was said that giants only stood at eleven or maybe twelve feet but he was taller than all of the rest. Lysara lets her hands fall to her side as she slowly approaches, staring up at him in awe. A faint growling and grumbling can be heard from him as she approached. As she grows closer, he growls louder causing her to suck in a sharp breath.
"I am here to help you...I promise that I will," Lysara explains softly, her voice was loud enough for the giant to hear, though. At first, she was unable to form proper sentences without stumbling over her words as she stared up at him in pure fascination, her hardened eyes went wide and awe filled. "I made a promise and I do not take breaking my promises lightly. I used to love the stories my Old Nan used to tell me about you, she used to tell me all about your kind and beyond the Wall. I fell inlove with those stories. I did not care for the rest of them, they mattered little to me but the stories about giants and direwolves and the Last Hero, I loved those ones. The ones with magic...It made me feel a little less lonely than I was. I remember when I was merely a child I asked, 'where are the giants of old?' and Old Nan laughed at me, all my siblings laughed like it was a jest I made but I was not jesting. My father told me that the giants were no more...I cried myself to sleep that same night...but here you are...an ancient and proud kind...somehow managing to still survive, after all this time...this cannot be real…"
"Red," The giant grumbles, his harsh pronunciations of the words of her mother tongue were spoken to her. "Fire."
"Yes," Lysara breathes, tears in her eyes as she looks at him with a gentle nod of her head. "I am red. I am red and terrible. I am fire made flesh."
Author's Note: Hey, I hope you liked this chapter and chapter twenty one should be up soon! In the books, there were more giants than Mag the Mighty and Wun Wun and I wanted to include that in this story as well, so there will be more involving giants in general and I look forward to writing about that. I would like to give a massive thank you to everyone that has read this story and also left a review, who has made this story one of their favourites and have also followed this story. If you have any questions regarding anything feel free to ask! If you have a favourite or particular trait about Lysara that you like or don't like, let me know!
Reviews -
ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!
EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURI: Gracias!
RHatch89: Thanks, I hope you like chapter twenty!
Saint River: Thank you, I am glad you liked chapter nineteen and I hope you like chapter twenty as well. Yeah, she and the Wildlings won't get along right away because of who she is and who they are, so there will be a bit of conflict between her and some of the Free Folk. Yes, Jon is back at the Wall after separating from Ygritte. And your right, Mance did assume that she had red hair. I hope you liked her talking with Mance and her short moment with giants and soon enough, she will encounter her greatest fear. In a past chapter I won't mention what in case I spoil it but something she has done, she will be able to do to the wights and White Walkers in the future chapters.
Fan of This: It's okay and thank you for reviewing, I hope you like chapter twenty! There will be much more involvement with her and the people beyond the Wall (including the giants) there is a lot of lore in the ASOIAF series to do with beyond the Wall that I will incorporate into this story that not many people might now about. I will gradually be giving her more power and I will definitely keep your ideas and thoughts in mind. I haven't seen the film but I will try and watch it if I can to see. I don't have writer's block anymore and I have finally enough plot for at least ten chapters or so but then I always have an overactive mind so I come up with new ideas even when I have a plot put in place but certain things are definitely set in stone for how I want this story to pan out.
Arianna Le Fey: Thank you, I'm glad you think so and I hope you like chapter twenty! The next chapter will include a pov from Aegon but I won't mentioning much about it yet as it has a big part of the plot and a reveal about something major. A lot of the prophecy will be revealed in a later chapter so I will sort of be keeping quiet about it but I will be slipping in and dropping a few hints. I usually do have some foreshadowing in each chapter.
celticank: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter