The Wall

Lysara Stark

Finding herself staring ahead at the dark waters in front of her, Lysara watched the water ripple as the long boats danced bobbed near the shore. Her brows furrowed at the strange sight of the boats being filled with men of the Night's Watch and Free Folk alike, both were working together instead of fighting which brought her happiness but also a wariness. Behind her, she could hear screams and the clashing of swords, singing a deadly song of war to her. The noise caused her to stiffen before she turned, peering into the thick fog. Through both the snow and the fog, something seemed to be ridingwith the winter winds.

Whatever was moving alongside it, brought a dread to her stomach and Lysara could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end when hundreds of bright blue stars grew closer to her. Roars and snarls met her ears, along with the stomping of horses hooves and thundering of feet. Yet, all she could see was winter itself as she stared ahead of it. After an agonising moment or so, the world around her had stilled and fell into an eerie silence that brought a chill to her. No longer could she hear the sound of a battle. All she could hear was the sound of ice cracking beneath her feet.

"Lysara!"

"Jon?" Lysara questioned, her brows furrowing as she tried to seek him out. "Jon!"

"Get to the boats!" Roared a voice that sounded all too familiar. "To the boats!"

Why?Lysara pondered. Whatever battle that had taken place as of this moment, she did not like it. She did not like the sounds of the wailing children, the terrified screams of men and women alike but most of all, Lysara did not like the inhumane growling and snarling that was heading towards her. The screaming was growing closer and louder as she walked further towards it, in a desperate search for Jon. The whispers that picked up with the wind sounded like war drums in her ears giving her a severe and near blinding pain.

The battle continued to rage on once more but this time the movement grew more panicked as the wind started to grow more powerful, the petrified screams sounded more like whispers against the roaring of the wind. Grasping at her red skirts, Lysara started to run through the fog, running for Jon as he called to her but no matter how far she ran, she could not find nor could she reach him. Lysara found herself unable to escape the winter she was entrapped in.

The watchful stars followed her as she ran but when the blizzard started to clear, Lysara stiffened when she found a man towering over her in blackened armour but that was not what struck fear into her heart. It was bright blue eyes that bore into her very own. We meet once more,Lysara thought as she felt her heart beat faster and harder while letting out short gasps. The blood pounded in her ears as she stared at him. He remained silent, keeping his impassive gaze on her as he started to walk towards her. The world remained still and silent apart from the sound of his feet meeting the ice. While he grew nearer to her, the more unbearable the pain had become for her. The mere presence of the Night's King made her writhe from the agonising pain that was ravaging her.

"Lysara!"

Hearing Jon's screams mixing with various others, caused Lysara to look over her shoulder with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes when she saw him, standing on a boat. He got away,she thought as a sob of relief escaped her throat. They got away.She stood, turning to face him in terror and blinked for a moment or so, trying to rid herself of the tears that had blurred her sight and let them without a care, slide down her face.

It was when the Night's King came to stand in front of her, that Lysara became more aware of the burningthat was happening inside of her. It was as if she had swallowed fire and it was licking her insides, blackening her bones and making her blood boil. Unflinchingly, Lysara let herself stare back at the Night's King, watching as he unsheathed his sword while his undead army slowly encased them. There was nowhere left for her to run nor was there anywhere for her to hide.

She found herself unable and unwilling to look back at Jon as he kept screaming for her, for her to run and for her to fight. The Night's King took another step forward, tilting his head to the side as he stared at her. Terrifyingly enough, the expression on his face seemed to be one of recognition as his ice covered hands neared her as she stumbled back from him.

He noticed her stumble back and with that, he lunged at her, snatching her wrist and held it tight, digging his talon-like nails into her pale skin. The burning died down but a strange sensation replaced it instead and it started to trail down her arms. Before she could pull back, his hand became a light from the fire that was inside of her. And as his other hand attempted to seize her neck, she let out a piercing scream.

"Lysara!" Urged a panicked voice. "Lysara, wake up!"

Lysara sat up with a loud gasp, all her breath was lost to her from the racing of her heart and she winced from the thunder sounded in her ears. Her tearful and tired gaze met the concerned face of Jon and with that, she wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into his neck. He jolted, managing to keep his balance as he accepted her embrace and put his arms around her back, pulling her tighter to his chest.

She stared ahead of him, watching the flames from the fire flicker. With a gentle push, Jon made her lie down once again and this time he came with her, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he kept his arms wrapped around her. He muttered something under his breath, holding her close before she looked up at him with a soft sigh.

"It was just a dream," Jon assured her. I don't think it was,Lysara thought as she let out a shuddered breath. "You're alright."

"Do you remember when we were little-" Lysara began, absentmindedly tracing a pattern on her wrist from where the Night's King touched her. "When I was afraid of the dark and since I kept having night terrors, father put me in another chamber far from our brothers and sisters so that I wouldn't frighten them with my screaming. At first, I was lonely but I didn't mind...I was closer to your chambers. Even though mother didn't like it, I didn't care. I liked it when the castle fell silent and the day turned to night. You would come to my chambers and you'd keep me safe. You were the one that could chase the terrors away. Both the real and the dreamt. Father and mother couldn't. Nor could Maester Luwin or Old Nan. Not even Robb could do that. I-I miss it, Jon...The world was kinder to us then...What happened?"

"We should never have left Winterfell," Jon admits with a grim expression, holding her tighter. "What he did...What Theon did, had I not taken the black I would've been able to protect you. You, Bran and Rickon. Had I not taken the black, I might've been able to protect Robb. But I wanted to belong somewhere. I wanted to belong somewhere over anything else...I would've killed Theon first before he raised a hand to you. I would've killed them all..."

"You did not know what was to happen," She informed him. "Nor did I, Jon. None of us knew what would happen. There are differences between fate and destiny. But...I need to find Bran and Rickon. I need to get back to Winterfell. To our home. I don't how far I will go or how long it will take but I willfind them again. Tensions are rising at the Wall and it isbecause of the Free Folk and I. Don't argue. I know it is. I see the looks that have been drawn our way. The looks given are all too familiar. I want to go home, Jon but I will need the Free Folk to help me. Mance and I made a pact. If I get them beyond the Wall and if I protect his son, he will help me in my fight for Winterfell...along with our battle against the Long Night..."

"Why should I let you go back?" Jon retaliated, causing her to stiffen in his hold and she pulled herself from him and sat up, staring down at him in bewilderment as he soon sat up, returning her look with a firm stare. "Why would I want to let you go? For moons worth, I thought youwere dead. I thought Bran and Rickon were dead too. I thought that I had lost my little sister. I made an oath to the Night's Watch but I made an oath to our father and to our brother. When that Wildling came to the Wall, holding a piece of your dress and when I finally saw you...I thought it was a dream but then it wasn't...You're safe with me, Lysara. I won't let anyonehurt you. I promise. That promise I made when we were children...The promise I made has never wavered."

"After all the terrible things I have done," Lysara begins. And will do,she silently adds. "Will you forgive me?"

"There isn't anything to forgive," He said, letting out a small sigh as she sits further up on the bed, letting her feet his furs on the ground.

"Forgive me, Jon," She begs. For what I am about to do,Lysara thinks to herself while her heart races faster. "Please-"

"I forgive you," Jon chuckles. "Night is still upon us. We should get back to sleep."

"You should," Lysara insists, looking over her shoulder to him. "I just need some air and by the sounds of it, so does the babe."

"It isn't safe to be out at night on your own," Jon argued, attempting to sit up but she shook her head. "Not all crows will be kind, Lysara."

"The night is dark and full of terrors, Jon Snow," She muses, casting an amused glance to him. "Although the crows may have dark wings and dark words, they are not the terrors I fear...besides I will not venture far. Good back to sleep, Jon. I will be here when you wake."

Out the corner of her eye, she watches Jon with care as his stern eyes trail over her face. Sucking in a small breath, she stares ahead of her to the dying fire and takes to standing, the bed creaked softly from the weight of her leaving the bed. The red skirts of her dress that were gathered around her thighs drift down to brush against the floor as moves towards the small fur make-shift bed that the Wildling Prince was sleeping in.

I'm sorry Jon,Lysara thought solemnly and looked in the small dirtied mirror towards her brother who was struggling to keep awake. For now, your place is here. At the Wall. However, my place is at Winterfell. A Stark must be in Winterfell.If Idon't go back to Winterfell, none of us will be safe. Not you. Not the Free Folk. Not Bran. Not Rickon. Not Sansa. Not Arya. Not Westeros.

Lifting up the wriggling babe, she brushes the small curls that stick to his forehead from the heat of the bedchambers and wraps him in her fur cloak, letting his head rest on her chest as walks over towards the chamber door. Looking down at her frostbitten wrist, Lysara winced and with a sharp breath, she opened the chamber door and left. Perhaps someday,Lysara thought as her lips fell into a frown along with her brows as she closed the chamber door behind her, silencing the shrieks of the flames that was craving her to caress them. Not today but someday...perhaps you will forgive me, Jon.

Mindful of the deceitful ice that covered the snow, Lysara gripped the railing with shaking fingers as she walked down the steps. Seeing the Baratheon soldier on guard, situated beside the cages where some of the captured Free Folk were being held. She moved towards him, with an intent in mind. Creeping through the shadows, Lysara's face becomes impassive as she moved towards the man adorned with a burning heart on his cloak.

A beast craving blood began to take over her but what startled her was that the man turned to her, peering at her from the shadows. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she made herself known. A look of recognition adorned the man's freckled features when he took note of her red dress.

"My Lady," The man nodded, his dark brow partly raised to her.

"Ser," Lysara begins, her voice small and soft while she cradles the Wild Wolf. "It is a fine evening is it not? I thought it was the work of a crow to keep a watchful eye over the Wildlings? Soldiers should be spending their nights drinking and eating their fill with a wench at their side...to warm their bed, is that not the truth? Yet, Ser-"

"Eoin," The soldier informs her. "The name's Eoin, my Lady."

"Eoin," She repeats, her voice a low hum as a smirk makes itself known on her face. "That is a strong name. You must strong for having survived the War of Kings. Not a lot of men have, Ser."

"Do you wish for me to escort you back to your chambers?" Eoin asked, his green eyes settling on the rise and fall of her breasts but he seems to ignore the settled babe in her arms.

"No, I am alright. However, I came upon you and noticed it must be tiring to stand there..." Lysara trails off. "You don't even know what the fight is for, do you? The fight for dawn?"

"You're one of those red witches," The dark haired said, giving her a hesitant glance as she grew closer until her face was near his own. That he could feel her warm breath on his lips. The man's eyes fluttered slightly as she backed him up against the bars of the cells. "Forgive me, my Lady. I must get back to my duties. King Stannis does not take to those who abandon their posts...even for a w-woman. I hope you understand, Lady Stark but I do not believe in a witch's magic."

"Feel," Lysara insisted, taking his cold hand in her own and let it cup her left breast. "No magic involved. Just life.You can feel my heart, can you not? Feelhow it races. You can resist me but I cannot resist you, Eoin.You look like a man I once loved, dearly.His name was Jory, Jory Cassel. He was meant to come back to Winterfell and marry me...but a lion took his life. We made love. He took my maidenhead and in turn, I took his heart. When we were together, it made me feel powerful-"She paused, reaching up to lightly bite his right ear as she stares ahead of her. Trembling underneath her touch, she smirked at the back of his head. "Can you make me feel powerful, Eoin?"

"I shouldn't, my Lady..." The man breathes. "I don't think Lord Snow would like that."

"Then it will be our secret," Lysara murmurs, he made an attempt to push her away but she refused. "No, I want to look on your face.

"Why would-" Just then, an arm came from behind the cell and wrapped around his throat, their grip tight and cruel to silence his choking shouts.

Taking a few steps back, she paid no mind to his cries and continued to cradle Wild Wolf, not looking up from him. The moment his choked shouts stopped and he slumped to the ground, she knew that he was dead and they would have to make haste if they wanted to leave with their lives.

Holding Wild Wolf tight to her, she walked over towards the cell, meeting the eyes of the raven-haired Frenya, one of the spearwives. The woman wore a proud smirk on her face while the red-haired Myrtle knelt down and began to search the man's body roughly, looking for the keys.

"About damned time," Cursed one of the burly men. "We have been waiting for this."

"We do not have much time," Lysara pointed out. "I had to plan an exact moment. I have been watching and waiting."

"It's the perfect time to attack!" Growled the lithe man next to the bearded one.

"No," She said, her voice hushed as she leant against their cell. "I will keep them distracted while Mance attacks the Wall. You have waited long enough."

"What about that crow brother of yours?" Willow Witch-Eye inquired.

"I have to go home now," Came her quiet response, taking the keys from Myrtle and begins to unlock the door, the keys rattling in the anticipated silence as she opened the cell. Once the cell was opened, the twelve Wildlings that were trapped in it were now freed. Passing Wild Wolf to Myrtle, she turns to face the dark-haired Willow once more. "I have to retake Winterfell and once I do, I will find Bran and Rickon. What I must do...keep Wild Wolf safe for me. Now, leave. The rest of the Free Folk are on the outskirts of the woods near the Wall. Their camp is lit. I received word from Val-"

"And?" The burly man demanded.

"They are waiting," Lysara informed them, her voice hurried as she took the dagger hidden in her sleeve and ripped into the material of her dress, ripping off a part of her right sleeve and passed the silk to him. "Here. Take this to him. It will let him know I have kept my side of the promise...he has to keep his. Go. I can hear the crows arriving."

"What about you?" Questioned a panicked woman. "You can't fight. Your arms are skinnier and weaker than sparrow legs!"

"Who's down there?"A vicious snarl came from above along with the thundering of feet.

"Go!"Lysara hissed, giving Thorn a harsh shove towards Myrtle as she was passed a torch. "Now!"

Grasping the torch in her hand, Lysara cast one last longing look towards the babe resting in the arms of the spearwife before she fled down the corridor. At first, she thought of turning back and returning to Jon's chambers but she knew it was something she must do. If she did not do this, she would be left with no home and no siblings. It reminded her of the time before she found the Lord's light. She was a child, alone and frightened. But this time was different, she was not a frightened child.

Not anymore.

The light that illuminated the corridor in an eerie and chilling orange glow, brought her nothing but discomfort. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when she heard the footsteps come up behind her but she did not have time to react. It wasn't a Wildling that was following her. The large man grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with a callused hand. Grabbing a hold of her wrist, she dropped the torch and the light died the moment it hit the wet and cold ground. There was no point in screaming or struggling, Lysara knew he was strong but she would do what she did best. She would wait.

"Don't scream red whore," The man snarled, placing the cold blade of a knife against her throat. "Or I will give you a red smile to match that pretty red dress of yours. They say the Northern Witch, Lysara neversmiles. Give me a smile, lovely. If you don't do as I say, I will give you a red smile from ear to ear...how does that sound?"

"I wasn't intending to scream," She whispered, staring down at the knife with a raised brow. "Why let the crows and the stags know of us? Both our heads would be removed from our shoulders if I did so."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too worried, lovely..." Breathed the man, tugging at her ear roughly with his teeth and pawing at her breasts as he did so. "We're all alone."

"Do as your Lord commands," Lysara murmurs, closing her eyes from repulsion. "You were sent to kill me. Kill me.I will not be toyed with, Ser."

"Aye, he did say I was to kill you...paid me a fine amount to," The man agreed, keeping his grip tight on her as he backed her against the wall. Making no attempt to struggle, she met his eyes and held his dark stare with an impassive one. Despite wanting to claw the smirk off his face, Lysara knew she must wait. Wait,she urged herself. You have to wait."However, I think I will have my way with you...what say you? Don't worry, I will let them all know how much of a tightfit you were and how you screamed for me before I slit your pretty neck."

Feeling him part her knees, she heard the hissing from the torches that were lined up along the walls. Staring ahead of her to the torch, Lysara let him separate her legs and hitch up her skirts. One hand remained on her breast while the other held the knife. The dark haired man let the knife press into her face, its bite was sharp and cold as he trailed it down her face. Her heart was racing so fast and hard, pounding against her chest that Lysara could not find the will to breathe as he continued to touch her. Digging his dirtied nails into her breast, she felt tears gather but did not let them fall despite the pain and disgust she felt.

"I wonder..." The man mused, trailing his tongue up her cheek to collect the trail of blood. She grimaced in his hold, trying to avert her head but he held her in place with the knife pressing into her throat. I'll burn you,Lysara thinks. I will watch as the flesh melts off your skin...as your bones blacken and as your body turns to ash."Your bastard brother will be walking down here come dawn...I wonder what he will feel when he comes across yourbloodied body. Dead-"

Bringing her hand up Lysara slapped him across the face, she had slapped him so hard that blood flew from his mouth and three nail marks run across his face. Bending down to pick up the knife he dropped, she scoffed and looked down at him with a blank face but behind the blankness of her face held pure satisfaction.The drums in her ears pounded and pounded and pounded.Their cries were telling her to kill him and be done with it.

The man did not have the time to react, she grasped his hair and pulled his head back. When the man emitted a roar, she draws a line with the knife across his throat. After that, all she saw was crimson.The sound of the man choking on his own blood lasted no longer than a few moments before a silence fell. The man collapsed to his knees, sparing her a loathsome glance before he dropped into the river of his own blood. Turning around, she approached one of the burning torches and pulled it from the metal hand that was holding it. The light flickered yellow against her blood covered face and with a final prayer, she dropped the torch onto the ground next to the man, setting the bits of straw on the ground aflame.

Burn,Lysara prayed. Let them burn.

Lysara would create the biggest fire Stannis and Melisandre ever saw, that the North ever saw and she would dance it while she watched the world burn.To get her brothers back...to get her sisters back, it was worth burning the world to get them back. Taking another torch, she threw it onto the man and watched as the flames licked the man's clothing and soon enough the man was set aflame. Inhaling the smell of smoke, she let her eyes flutter close as a smirk appeared on her face.

Turning to walk down the corridor, she continued to pick up torches and set the Wall alight. You killed an innocent man,she could almost feel her father's disapproval but she paid no mind to. No one in Westeros was innocent. Not truly.The sounds of various horns and frantic shouts met her ears as it carried with the wind that was picking up. No doubt, Mance was making an attack on the Wall once more and this time...this time he would win.

For her to get Winterfell and her siblings back, Lysara would help him win. The flames trailed after her as she walked away. To most, they would hear the sound of battle. But to her, it was the sound of her going home. To Winterfell. Grasping onto another torch, she held it closer to her face and closed her eyes, letting it drop at her feet as the fire grew. It grew and grew and no one could stop it. Lysara stilled, casting a glance over her shoulder, ignoring the whispers that transformed into roars as she heard the inhuman screeching.

The screeching of dragons.

Author's Note: Hi, I hope you like this chapter. Things are starting to heat up again! 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: Thank you, a lot of things will still remain a mystery and will be steadily uncovered in the chapters to come.

enuji1799: She will be discovering some things soon.

RHatcy89: Thanks!

Guest: Thanks! I can say that they will be meeting soon!

Saint River: There will be definitely more of these two in chapters to come and a lot of things will be revealed as well. As for that, not even Lysara knows...she only knows what she sees.

celticank: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!

Evangeline: Yep, things were getting a bit slow, I felt it to and was sort of getting a bit settled into this story but now I have come up with new twists and things have started to heat up in this chapter. Thank you, I'm glad you like Lysara.

kksambo: I feel like she has had a lot of character development but that is your opinion and I respect you for telling me how you fell. I can say that she does think about her brothers and sisters since separating from her brothers but I can say that her plan with the Wildling's did take time and now it is finally coming to head. She isn't good at fighting (at least not with a sword or with her fists) but she is good with a knife (and uses fire at times), though she was brought up as a Lady and like most places in Westeros, it was frowned upon and she preferred to read a book than play with a sword. I feel she can't be right all the time and her stubbornness can be her curse and (sort of) her blessing as well. With Lysara and the Lord of Light, being isolated and alone due to what was happening to her (with the dreams and the voices) she turned to him for comfort and I would say one of her traits is that she is rather possessive. I hope this explains a few things and I hope that you liked this chapter.