The Wall

Lysara Stark

Lysara woke to the sound of Wild Wolf's howling. With closed eyes, her fingers stretched out, seeking to caress the babe's cheek but instead she was met with a warmth at her side. She propped herself up on one elbow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to gaze down at the small girl curled up at her side. There is enough light for her to see several small children curled about at her side, cocooned in furs. In sleep, the children were peaceful but she could see them start to stir from the wailing of the babe that was growing louder with each moment that passed. Resting at her feet, as if he was guarding her, was Ghost.

Lysara reached over and rubbed Ghost's ears as he huffed small breaths before she sat up, looking down at the babe wriggling underneath the furs in the basket he slept in. Her lips quirked into a small smile as she scooped him up into her arms, letting his head rest on her shoulder as she cradled him, wrapping her furs around both of them to keep him warm. His sobbing quietened as he looked up at her with shining eyes, filled with such curiosity that she couldn't help but wonder what he must think. I wonder what you must think of me? Lysara asks. Am I a terrible, red thing to you?

"Hush," Lysara murmured, her voice soft like the gentle sway of the wind. "Do not wake them. Let them dream, my wolf."

"Fire bird," A girl child called from her side.

The small girl underneath her bundle of furs was not even four name days old and was seemingly nameless but Lysara had taken to calling the girl Raven. The girl's parents had both fell during the Black Battle, so none of the Free Folk knew for certain on who she was or what she meant to be named. The girl sat up and Lysara could not help but smile when she watched a raven coloured man of wild hair bounce with the girl's movements. The girl reminded her of Arya when she was around that age and the sound of the girl's belly growling made her stare on with fondness, letting a small laugh escape her lips as the girl looked up at her with pleading dark brown eyes.

"It's alright," Lysara reassured. "I'll make your porridge and get a fire going."

As she stood up, she took in the camp and noticed it began to wake as the sun started to rise in the grey sky, making shadows dance over their camp and creating a stir with the Free Folk. She rocked the babe in her arms, holding him to her as she made her way towards the bags that contained oats and dried nuts for the porridge. The days were getting shorter and the nights were getting longer, just as she feared.

When no one was looking or when she felt alone, Lysara would stare into the flames for hours on end and wondered when the true war was coming. She would let the flames dance on her hands, expecting to feel pain and for her skin to blister and burn at any given moment but she felt nothing. Why do I dance with flames? She often finds herself asking R'hllor. What plans do you have for me? What role will I possess in the war to come?

She approached the large pot and started the fire with little to no effort. It grew far more difficult to be away from the fire as it called to her. Dance, the flames seemed to beckon her with a small encouraging hiss. Dance. Yet all the times she refused to do its bidding, it felt as if two hands were gripping her throat. Lysara bent down beside the pot, tightening her hold on the babe as she gathered fresh snow for the porridge and put it into the large pot along with the oats and nuts.

Food was growing scarce since Stannis's attack. There was no more milk for the Wildling children. As she brought the wooden spoon into the pot, the hag crept towards her with a bowl in her shaking hands. While she stirred the meal, the Wildling witch grew closer causing Ghost to growl low in his throat, baring his teeth towards the woman as a warning.

"Enough," Lysara ordered.

"Ah," Yrna breathed, her lips twitching up from glee as she turned towards the direwolf who whined low in his throat. "Even while he sleeps, Lord Snow still protects you."

"Here," She said softly, flicking three large spoonfuls of the porridge into the bowl and handed it to the child. "Make sure it is eaten, girl."

"Thank you," The girl said, gripping the bowl with two dainty hands as she raised the bowl to her lips.

Lysara kept Wild Wolf to her chest, hushing him as he continued sobbed. She wasn't sure of what to do with him or how to settle his wailing, she tensed a considerable amount when she noticed the stares given in her direction. Lysara wrapped herself up in a dark bear skin, rocking him as she trailed passed Yrna towards the edge of the woods where the Weirwood tree lies. The walk was not far but the Wildling Prince did not calm until she approached the tree.

She stared at it in apprehension, hearing the threatening whispers from the wind as the crimson leaves moved with the wind and the shadows danced across the face that was carved into the white tree. Are you with me father? Lysara wondered, staring at the tree in confliction as she let her hand rest upon the rough bark. She heard the snow crunch behind her, causing her to stiffen as the presence grew closer and as she turned, a small smile appeared on her face when she was met with Ghost. The direwolf tilted his head to the side, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he listened to the strange noise coming from the babe in her arms.

"You truly are beautiful," Lysara murmured, cradling him against her body. He nuzzled his small head into her shoulder, grasping her dark locks as he continued to stare at her with nothing but contentment in his eyes. It was strange to be stared at like that, the last to ever stare at her with such adoration was Rickon and he was lost to her now. As Bran and Robb were. As her sisters were. As her father and mother were. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her nails digging into the bark of the white tree as she stared ahead at the Wall that loomed over her. "I will not let Stannis hurt you. I promise. I will set the whole world alight if he tries to."

As she stared at the direwolf who began to howl a mournful song, she could feel tears gather in her eyes. I wish I could weep like you, Lysara thought with nothing but envy as she stared down at the Wildling Prince. It easy for you, you're just a babe and I am a woman grown. Lysara longed for her lost childhood, for when her father would wrap his arms around her and hoist her onto his shoulders or when her mother would braid her hair and kiss her goodnight before she went to sleep. Lysara longed for the comfort of her mother and father. I wish I could make foolish mistakes, she thought with a small sigh and let herself slump against the tree, closing her heavy eyes in exhaustion. I wish I could see my mother and father again, I would kiss their cheeks and tell them I'm sorry, she prayed as a small sob escaped her throat. They don't even have to stay for long. I just wanted to see them one last time. Just for a little while. That's all.

"You dote on the Wildling Prince," A voice said from behind her, causing her to still when Ghost began to growl and snarl, snapping his jaws threateningly as his hackles raised. "You have made a foolish mistake."

"Have I?" Lysara challenged, raising a brow as she stared ahead. "I have made a lot of mistakes but he isn't one of them."

Lysara turned to face the woman in red, her face growing impassive as she stared at the woman. The shadows seemed to caress the woman as the fire did her. The woman was beautiful as her visions in the flames but there was a darkness shrouding the woman's heart. It seems she gifted me this dress, Lysara remarked to herself as she looked at the woman's crimson frock and noticed that the dresses were of a similar fashion. She tightened her hold on the boy, staring at the woman in apprehension. Ghost's growling grew fiercer as the woman took a step forward towards her, causing her to take a step back in suspicion. Where the Red Lady is, Lysara thought. Stannis is not far behind.

"It is truly a sight to behold," Melisandre breathed, reaching to grip her chin as she stared at her with wide eyes. "You can dance with flames. You are the child of fire. R'hllor has awaited the birth of all his servants but none more so than you. You were cold, so cold but the Lord of Light brought Joroquo to the North and there he met you. He was our High Priest. I have known him since I was a child when he broke the chains from my wrists and freed me. Before his passing, he talked of nothing but the wolf girl he breathed the fire of our Lord into. You. I have been longing to meet you, Lysara of the North."

"I have been longing to speak with you," Lysara nodded, clutching the Wildling Prince to her. "You and I both know what events would unfold after our meeting."

"Lysara," The familiar voice of Jon called, causing her to look over her shoulder to see Jon standing there, his eyes darkening as he stared at the woman in disdain. His hand was resting on Longclaw and she knew with Ghost snarling, he would be prepared to draw it at any given movement if he felt she was in danger. She gave him a hard stare before turning to face Lady Melisandre, the woman's grip remaining tight on her chin as her other finger trailed down her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," She answered with sincerity. "I will be fine. I wish to speak with Melisandre alone."

"I'll take the babe with me," Jon informed her, taking the babe out of her grip. He bundled the Wildling Prince up in his black furs, his lips quirking into a small but awkward smile as he stared down at the cooing babe. A look shared between her and Jon was all it took for him to know that she wanted the babe nowhere near the Red woman. Jon glanced at both her and Melisandre, staring at her with hesitation before he began to walk away with a wariness in his step. "Look after her, Ghost. I will be in the Wildling camp, I need to speak with Mance and then I need to speak with you...It is about Winterfell."

"Look after him," Lysara said, casting a final glance at them before she turned to face Melisandre who arched a brow towards her.

"You love him," Melisandre said. "You know a lot of things about our Lord. The flames of the hearth have taught you well, my Lady. Yet, I still believe that Joroquo made a grave mistake. He did not teach our ways to you. The ways of our Lord. Of R'hllor. So much potential and power and light resides in your body, Lysara of the North. The power of flame will grow in time but very few have mastered it. You are a candle, barely flickering but that fire will grow. Taunted, teased and tormented. I was like you. Once."

"Your heart has darkened," She comments. "You have seen far more of the world than possible. I have seen the beginning of time in your eyes, Melisandre. You are not what most people think."

"Lord Snow is rather handsome, is he not?" The Red Woman questions.

"Jon is my brother," Lysara retaliates.

"The Targaryen's married brother and sister," Melisandre informed her. "The people of Westeros did not care for it nor did our Lord. The union was pure. It had nothing but light. The Lord of Light made us male and female. We become two parts of a greater whole. When we join together, we hold the power. The power to make life. The power to make light and love. The power to cast shadows. The power to create fire. Come with us and we will chase those believers of the false Gods out of your home."

"Love is love," Lysara responds, she reaches over and grasps Melisandre's wrist, letting the woman's hand rest on her beating chest as it rose and fell with each breath she took. "I may not know a lot of things but I do know somethings and I do know that our Lord has nothing to do with who we love. It is our beating hearts that choose for us. Feel it. This is true power. The purest of its kind. We all possess power. Our will is our power. We all have a will. We all make choices."

"I have seen you many times in the flames. As I grew older, I used to sit and watch the flames dance and how I wished to dance with them but my hands would blacken and blister as I burned. You do not," Lady Melisandre said, a smirk adorning her face as she stared at her. "We are not enemies. I consider us as sisters. Two beings that possess our Lord's light. Two beings that can become one. I would very much like to witness you dance with the flames."

"What have the flames shown?" She asked, quirking a brow towards the smirking woman who had backed her up against the tree.

"Many things," The red haired woman breathed, growing closer to her. "Both past and future."

"And how does my story end?" Lysara questions, staring deep into the woman's eyes.

"How does our story end," Melisandre smiles. "It doesn't. There cannot be light without darkness. I will show you the truth."

"Show me," Lysara murmured, her voice deep and breathless.

Melisandre smile remained but her smile did not reach her dark eyes, the woman reached out and caressed her face with the back of her hand, trailing her long fingers down her cheek before she tilted her head and pressed her lips against her own. She let out a small gasp, trying to pull away but something had caused her to stiffen as she let her back rest against the white bark. Her once wide and surprised eyes were now closing as her lips moved with Melisandre's. The woman's hand gripped her breast tighter and when the woman let her hand rest on her heart that was beating against her chest, her entire being was filled with pain that it brought tears to her eyes. It felt as if Melisandre had pulled her skin from the bone and was digging her talon nails into her heart.

The whispers that were once soft and meek were now roaring in her ears, the words of both men and women alike hammering into her head that it brought her blinding pain. She had not felt such pain as she did at this moment and when her lips parted to let out a scream, she fell to her knees but fell into the arms of Lady Melisandre. She clenched her eyes shut, listening to the blood curdling screams echo as tears slid down her cheeks. The woman pulled away, caressing her hair as she pressed an almost tender kiss to her lips.

"Do not worry," Melisandre mused, continuing to caress her cheek as her vision darkened but the screams still remained. "It will be over soon but you must know the truth. The truth of your blood."

As she staggered to her feet, she glanced around with wide and panicked eyes while she fought against the howling winter wind. The wind reminded her of Ghost when he howled into the long and dark night but this was different. She felt different. This was not like her normal dreams, she did not feel alone in this dream. In fact, she was certain that someone was watching her movement. How did I get here? Lysara wondered, her brows furrowing as she tried to remember what had happened. Lysara wasn't sure how she ended up in face down in snow or even where she was. I am North of the Wall, she notes to herself as she takes in nothing but snow and darkness surrounding her. Is this the long night?

She could hear the screaming still as it remained in her ears, she still heard it, though it sounded miles from where she was and she felt nothing but dread when the screams fell silent and she was left in a deathly still woods with nothing but the dead trees in front of her and the snow below her and the darkness above her. No moon or stars graced the sky, bringing a shiver down her back as she brushed off the snow on her crimson dress.

There was an unsettling calmness that had grown after the silence that made her start to walk through the woods, compelled to head further North. She did not know how far she wondered but she came to a stop upon finding an entrance to a lit cave. Lysara gripped the skirts of her dress, climbing up the ice covered rocks. Her toes curled in her leather boots to give her some sense of sureness as she entered the cave.

As she entered, she was stunned silent upon finding a large chamber, two pillars of pouncing wolves seemed to prevent the cave from collapsing in on itself. Magnificent, Lysara thought with widening eyes as she took in the runes and the torches that lit the rock chamber. A stiff man was resting against a pillar and she made her way towards him, the only sound was her feet hitting off against stone. A few small rocks crumbled here and there as she walked towards the man and once she knelt beside him, she had to stifle a gasp as she noticed another man was kneeling next to him. Father, she thought. He looks like father. The bearded man looked up, peering at her for a moment or so before looking back down at the man and gripped his hand. Can he see me? Lysara thought.

"He will not wake, Brandon," An impassive voice spoke, snapping her from the entrancement that the man seemed to have on her.

"This was your doing," The man, Brandon hissed with such fury. "The attacks on our people. I trusted you...How could I have been so blind."

Although she could not see the man speaking to Brandon, she could feel his overwhelmingly dark presence that it almost choked her. The power radiating off the man was wrapping itself around her throat, preventing her from breathing with its iron like grip. Who is this man? Lysara wondered. Who are these men? Brandon continued to speak to the man but it fell on deaf ears as she listened to a sorrowful song that began to enter the cave. The ethereal singing was soothing to her and as she turned towards the entrance of the cave, a crimson fire flew above her. The fire danced in the cave before it perched beside Brandon. The fire died down and from the ash emerged a bird with long feathers and a sharp beak but it had striking eyes that reminded her of her own.

"The firebird," The cold man breathed. "At last...At long last."

"It is a demon!" Brandon roared, rising to his feet as he drew his sword and pointed it at the man. "As are you, brother."

"You never knew what it was like," The robed man, Brandon's brother whispered as he withdrew his sword and she watched in amazement as it became alight from fire. "You never knew what it was like to be cast aside because of what I was. Because of who I was. For all those years, I was ashamed of what I was and what I was born to be. Having to hide who I was. I was whipped and beaten. But with each stroke from the whip, it made me stronger. Winter is coming, brother. And so...Now the war begins."

"No," Brandon sighs, staring at him with sorrowful eyes. "Now it ends. As long as I breathe air, winter will never come. I will build a wall, higher than the mountains...If I must to keep them out."

Brandon the Builder, Lysara thinks to herself as she comes to the realisation. She was standing in front of the founder of House Stark, the builder of the Wall and the drinker of the fire bird's blood. She scrambled back as the men clashed as soon as Brandon had said this. Brandon sent his sword spinning, dancing with his sword as he weaved around the robed man. Turning, Brandon's lips pursed into a snarl before lunged at the man. He charged at the man, his greatsword slicing through the air and when it was brought down, the hooded man dodged it with little to no effort.

"You had our sister slaughtered!" Brandon growled, sounding more wolf than man as he lunged for the man once again. "We were her brothers and we were meant to protect her!"

The man in the black cloak charged at Brandon with his sword raised high in the air, ready to bring it down with a powerful strike. However, Brandon the Builder stumbled out of the way. Despite moving behind the cloaked man, the man swung his sword around, hoping to strike Brandon but he missed. Strike and miss. Miss and strike. It became a deadly dance that she could not look away from until the cloaked man drove his sword Brandon causing the man to still and drop his sword. Brandon collapses to his knees, clutching his wounded side before he falls to the ground. The hooded man seems to give a nod in satisfaction before a darkness surrounds her and Brandon the Builder. R'hllor, she wonders. Why are showing me this?

"No!" Lysara shouted, scrambling towards the man. "No..."

A crimson bird passed her, a soft clatter of claws giving noise to the silent cave. She watched in confusion as the bird laid its beautiful head on the spot where Brandon had been stabbed. The man reached out with a shaking hand and stroked its head with a soft look in his pained grey eyes. He let out an almost maddening laugh as he threw his head back, his booming laughter growing louder causing her to frown. Perhaps this is where I get my madness from? Lysara thought.

"Good girl," Brandon whispered, stroking the bird's head. "We fooled him...I'm sorry girl."

Sorry? Lysara thought, her eyes widening when he slowly slid a knife from between his sleeve and stabbed the bird. The bird let out a horrifying screech that seemed to shake the cave as the bird spread its wings wide and flew off. The fire bird soared overhead, letting out a heartbreaking song that brought her to tears. What is he doing? The voice of Yrna seemed to hiss in the back of her mind as he inspected the bloodied knife before bringing it to his lips. She shook her head in denial and watched in horror as he licked the blood from the knife. A shuddering sigh left his lips before he fell unconscious.

"It's in your blood," A voice hissed in her ear, dragging talon-like nails down her face.

Lysara shot up with a jolt, her breathing ragged and her heart racing as she let out short gasps as she tried to breathe. A pair of hands cupped her face, causing her to open her eyes at the force of the hands shaking her. She looked at Jon and wrapped her arms around him, staring ahead as she shook violently in his hold as she began to sob, the song of the fire bird remaining in her mind. A chill radiated within her that not even the fire that was burning bright could warm her from.

"What did she do?" Jon demanded, holding her tight to him. "Tell me. I came back to find you...Your eyes..."

"Blood," Lysara murmured.

"Blood?" Jon repeats, giving her a perplexed stare. "What do you mean?"

"It's in our blood," She told him.

Author's Note: Hi, I hope you like this chapter. You can expect a lot more interactions with Lysara and Melisandre in the next chapters. I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story, for following and making it one of your favourites and I would like to give massive thanks to everyone who has left a review! If you have any questions feel free to ask and the next chapter should be up soon.

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: I did put a small snippet in but this chapter completely focuses on her.

celticank: Thanks! He will find out about Jon soon enough.

12345678910: Thanks!

RHatch89: Thank you!

Saint River: There will be a lot of the plot focusing on the Horn of Winter and its purpose without giving the plot away, I can say that there will be a reason for blowing the Horn and there will be a lot of twists and turns.

Guest 1: I hope you like this chapter, I did sort of make him different from the canon but while there is some differences I did keep massive parts of his personality. Guest 2: Thank you! Lysara and Melisandre will be featured in the next chapter as well.