Very few things have bothered Lyra these last few years, she even got used to her blindness...that is, as long as steady ground was beneath her feet. Which is why the Northern Queen was currently over the side of the ship suffering from seasickness.
"Let it out." Ser Davos said, patting her back as he helped ease her through her nausea.
Lyra spat the taste out of her mouth, "Ugh, how could I have forgotten how much I despise the ocean?" she said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. "It hasn't been a week and I haven't gotten past the first part of this trip." She said as she tried to maneuver herself through the dark to the closest chair on the swaying deck.
Ser Davos guided her to a seat that was close to the rails if she needed to relieve herself again. "How do you do it?" Lyra asked her advisor as she wiped her sweaty forehead.
"Decades upon decades of practice." Ser Davos answered proudly, making Lyra chuckle under her breath. "I applaud you, your adaptation and recovery is impeccable while mine is lacking where sea travel is concerned. Even when I step back on land I still feel as though the ground is swaying." She groaned at the last part as she leaned forward until her forehead was touching her knee.
Her advisor gently patted her back in comfort, "At least you're faring better than last time."
"Really? How?" Lyra asked, her voice slightly muffled by her trousers.
"Last time, it all came up about three days after leaving White Harbor. We left Dragonstone six days ago, and you managed to keep it all down until just now. So that's an improvement." Ser Davos said, hoping this would comfort her. "I hate the ocean." she mumbled, making the Onion Knight laugh at her comment.
"I don't mind the sea very much, I just have a problem with the constant rocking." a new voice joined them, making Ser Davos look up to see the young blacksmith he picked up from King's Landing join them.
Lyra slowly lifted her head up, letting out a steady breath to calm her nausea, and faced the newcomer who added, "I share your pain." Lyra let out a dry laugh and asked, "How many times have you been out to sea?"
"This could be the fourth-fifth time actually Your Grace." the stranger answered, "My name is Gendry, I'm Robert Baratheon's son-bastard son." Lyra's smoky cloudy eyes widened at the name, but the young man didn't stop there, "I also know that you're the bastard daughter of Eddard Stark. Our Fathers fought side-by-side as best friends."
Ser Davos sighed, "You were supposed to keep that to yourself." he muttered giving Gendry a stern look.
"Forgive me, Ser Davos, but I couldn't. I need to tell her something in regards to her sister Arya Stark." Gendry said before turning back to the Queen's far away expression that fixated in his direction. "How do you know my little Arya?" She asked, giving Gendry a curious look.
Gendry swallowed, knowing that this would be a sore subject to touch upon, "After Lord Stark's execution, Arya was smuggled out of King's Landing with the new recruits that were bound for the Wall. She was dressed as a boy, but I knew she was not. I kept her secret as we traveled together, she was a good friend of mine." Lyra couldn't help but laugh at how similar she and her little sister are in how they turned themselves into boys to survive.
"How did you two get separated?" Lyra asked, catching the melancholy tone within the young man's words.
"You know the Brotherhood Without Banners?" Lyra shook her head, "I'm afraid I was too preoccupied Beyond the Wall at the time."
"Well, we ran into them, and they kept us for a time before they sold me off to a red witch who brought me to Stannis Baratheon." Lyra's eyes widened as the memory of the woman who brought her back flashed through her mind prior to her loss of sight.
"Melisandre." Lyra whispered, her tongue rolling on the r's as Gendry's eyes widened, "You met her?"
"I have. She was my advisor for a time, but she's no longer welcome in the North." Lyra answered, remembering that moment where she decided to banish the woman for her hand in killing Princess Shireen.
"What happened?" Gendry asked, turning to Ser Davos who had a pain filled expression on his face.
"A story for another time, I'm afraid." Lyra answered, sensing her advisor's pain at the mention of Melisandre and what she had done. "You and Ser Davos already met." she stated sensing familiarity between the two.
"We have, I saved him before Melisandre had the chance to sacrifice him to her Fire God." Ser Davos answered, "I was surprised to find him back in King's Landing in the Streets of Steel, hiding in plain sight from Cersei." Lyra gave him an impressed nod, "Clever."
"Thank you, Your Grace." Gendry said, bowing his head to the blind monarch.
"None of that 'Your Grace' shite. I have a name, it is Lyra Snow." Lyra said humbly and sternly, never been one for such titles.
"My apologies Your-uh, Lyra Snow." Gendry said, quickly correcting himself as Lyra smiled, "Better. You are a brave man to be venturing North after all this time. What changed, aside from Ser Davos plucking you from that shit pile city?" Lyra asked as Ser Davos and the blacksmith shared a look.
Gendry let out a sigh, "To be honest, I don't know what's waiting for me in the North. But I don't care, because I'm done making weapons and armor for the people who killed my Father. I want to offer my service for a real cause. Not just as a blacksmith, but as Gendry." he finished his speech, bowing his head in respect to the Northern Queen.
Lyra couldn't help but smile after listening to Gendry, "You are a brave man." she repeated before asking, "Do you know the Words of your Father's House?"
"Um, I'm not sure." Gendry said in slight embarrassment.
"'Ours is the Fury'." Lyra answered for him switching on her inner sight to see Gendry's soul, smiling when she saw a majestic stag before her with his head bowing before her. "I may no longer have my sight son of Baratheon, but I can see you are as much a stag as your Father. You may not have his name, but you have his blood." Switching off her inner sight, she stared directly at Gendry, "Our Fathers fought side-by-side in battle, it would make them proud to see their children do the same in the wars to come."
Gendry nodded, "I heard stories about how the Unseeing Queen fought and destroyed House Bolton to get her Father's home back." he said with praise, "It would be an honor to fight alongside you, Your Grace."
Lyra smiled, reminding the blacksmith of Arya for a second, "You best fight with the Fury your Father gifted to you then, fore Winter is Coming...and it is storming like a bitch." Gendry chuckled under his breath before Lyra held her hand out for him to shake. He clasped her arm in comradeship, shaking it firmly to solidify their newfound friendship.
"Also, in the future, when we get to Winterfell, Arya will be happy to see you again." Lyra added as she released his hand.
"She's gonna kick my ass." Gendry stated, making all three of them laugh as they continued sailing towards the North.
After what felt like forever, they finally made it to Eastwatch by the Sea, the icy cold winds hitting their skins like slaps to the face. After talking to Tormund and receiving his assistance, along with the surprise appearance of the Brotherhood, much to Gendry's chagrin, they all set off North of the Wall. She sent Ghost up ahead to scout the landscape as she marched with her group through the winter snow she was most familiar with as she navigated through the dark along the uneven ground.
"Are you doing alright Milady?" Ser Jorah asked, walking beside her, ready to lend his assistance even though she was able to walk in the dark on the rough terrain with surprising ease.
"I am well, Ser Jorah. What about you, it's been years since you felt the cold wind of the North." Lyra asked the knight beside her, knowing that he hasn't been to the North in a very long time.
Ser Jorah allowed a melancholy smile on his face, "It's all familiar, but I remember the cold all too well. Although it feels much colder than what I remember."
"Winter is Coming." Lyra recited her Lord Father's House Words with little emotion as Ser Jorah nodded, "It certainly has."
"The first time I went North of the Wall was with your Father." Lyra told the exiled knight, remembering the face of her many teachers.
"He was a good man, he deserved a better son." Jorah said, shameful of how he disgraced his Father and House with his crime.
"Aye, he was. He told me about what led you into exile." Lyra said, after a pause, "But you're different now, you're wiser, and from what your King has told me, you have redeemed yourself by helping him free the slaves across the Narrow Sea. Lord Commander Mormont would've been proud of what you've done despite your past."
Jorah smiled sadly at the comfort she was trying to give him, "Thank you for that Milady."
"Please, call my Lyra Snow. I'm not a lady." Lyra corrected him, the title sounded foreign to her.
"What about 'Your Grace'. You are Queen in the North after all." Jorah added staring at her dark cloudy eyes that stared ahead.
"Just. Lyra." she said with mild annoyance as they continued their trek through the snow.
Jorah nodded, "Very well then, Lyra Snow." he paused before he opened his mouth again, "I have to ask, when you joined the Night's Watch, did my Father find out about...?" his question hung in the air, unsure how to phrase it.
"You mean if he figured out I had tits instead of balls? Then yes, he did. From the moment I set foot inside Castle Black, he knew about my true identity." Lyra said, remembering how Lord Commander Mormont called her out the moment she stepped into his office. "He could've thrown me out for my deceit, but instead, he made me his steward so he could keep a closer eye on me."
"Sounds like him." Jorah commented, just picturing how his Father told her point blank that she will be serving him as a steward.
Lyra stopped and stepped to the side of their train with Jorah not far behind her as she faced him while unstrapping the sword from her waist and presented it to the knight, "The first Wight I encountered was brought to Castle Black, it tried to kill your Father and me. Had it not been for Ghost and I, he would've died." she said, her glove covered fingers tracing the wolf pommel of the sword, "He entrusted this sword to me as a gift. Changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf, but it is still Long Claw." she said, stroking the pommel with gentle fondness as she remembered the previous Lord Commander.
She held the valyrian steel sword for Jorah to take before she felt it leave her hands. The knight held his family's ancestral sword in his hand as he unsheathed it to stare at the blade, "Your Father thought you were never coming back. But you are back." Lyra said, staring directly at him through the dark, "It has been in your House for generations, it is not right for a bastard to hold onto it."
Jorah glanced at her shadowed gaze that held nothing but calmness and honesty. The way she was giving him his family's sword with honorable intentions made him feel humbled. But he has no right to claim this sword, not after how he disgraced his family. "He gave it to you." he said with certainty and resolve.
"I'm not his child." Lyra said, shaking her head as Jorah sheathed the sword, "I broke my Father's heart when I brought shame onto our House. I forfeited the right to claim this sword." he said before taking the Queens hand and wrapping her fingers firmly around the sheath. "It is yours." he said with certainty, knowing she was meant to have this sword, "May it serve you well...and your children after you." he added before walking off to catch up to their group, leaving Lyra to wonder about that last part of that sentence before she moved to follow them.
Aegon stared at the fire in the hearth, his eyes watching the bright flames dance about in boredom. Nearly three weeks have passed since he watched Lyra sail away to the North, and two days since he received that raven scroll that told him that they have arrived at Eastwatch in one piece. Knowing that they made it safely to the Wall both relieved and terrified him because that would mean they were searching for the army of the dead as of right now. Just thinking about those eerie skeletal drawings on the cave wall made him shiver, especially with how those icy blue eyes stared at him.
Tyrion watched the Dragon King from the other chair in front of the hearth as he drank wine, noting how agitated the monarch looked right now. "You shouldn't worry about her so much Your Grace. She'll be alright." He said after taking a gulp from his glass.
Aegon glanced at his Hand in question, "What do you mean?"
Tyrion gave him the 'don't play dumb with me' look, "You know what I'm talking about, or rather, who I'm talking about."
Aegon and Tyrion stared at each other before the former sighed, "I allowed a blind woman to venture into the coldest places in the world to find a dead person. She's walking into her death." he said, angry at himself for letting her go to such a place.
Tyrion tapped the arm of his chair with a frown on his face, "Goes to show you how committed she is to her people's survival. Putting her life at risk to win wars. Or so Ser Davos told me on the way to King's Landing." he added, recalling his conversation with the Onion Knight.
Aegon couldn't help but nod in agreement, "She's a capable fighter despite her lack of sight."
"Hm, give her silver hair and a dragon and she'll be exactly like Visenya Targaryen." Tyrion mused to himself, making Aegon laugh lightly at his joke, but the idea of Lyra Snow riding on one of his dragons wasn't all that bad seeing how Drogon took an instant liking to her.
"I can't see her with silver hair." Aegon said, trying to picture her with silver hair like his own, but found that dark hair suited her much better.
"You're right, I can't either." Tyrion said, shaking his head as he took another drink of his wine. "What do you think of her?" the dwarf asked out of the blue after a pause.
"I'm sorry?" Aegon asked in confusion at his Hand.
Tyrion leaned forward, "As a Queen in the North. She's not the power hungry barbarian you initially thought she was." Red dusted Aegon's cheeks because that was exactly what he thought of the instant he heard about this Queen in the North.
"No, she's not." Aegon admitted, "She is the complete opposite of what I was expecting. She doesn't make demands, she's blunt and honest." he sighed, shaking his head, "She's not like other rulers."
"She's much prettier." Tyrion quipped, catching the feint blush on the King's cheeks, "Even you can't deny that."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Aegon questioned his advisor who continued drinking.
"Tell me, Your Grace, does it frustrate you that the ruler who holds one of the largest kingdoms in Westeros is a humble and honorable woman?" Tyrion asked, watching as Aegon furrowed his brow at his question. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." The dwarf nodded with a shrug.
"So what if it does frustrate me?" Aegon asked, letting out a sigh.
"She still refuses to bend the knee to you." Tyrion stated, staring at his now empty glass, "If it had been a barbarian you were hoping for, conquering would have been so much easier."
Aegon could only nod, "I am more used to being met with violence and anger." he said, remembering how he took the slave cities from the masters and abolished slavery in Essos.
"Exactly." Tyrion poured himself more wine, "Had it been a man...well, the results would probably remain the same. Except you wouldn't be in love with her." he added, taking a sip of his drink as Aegon gave him a look.
"I'm not in love with Lyra Snow." Aegon denied, feeling his blood boil at the thought of Lyra, how she awakened a fire within him.
"Right of course, and I'm sure those longing stares you give her aren't because you are hoping for a strong military alliance." Tyrion sarcastically said, having seen the stares Aegon sends the blind monarch. "It wouldn't be a bad match, an honorable woman, and a just man. A perfect balance the Seven Kingdoms need if we survive this war." he added before downing the rest of his drink while Aegon turned back to the fire, contemplating what his Hand just said to him.
Back in the North, beyond the Wall, the group continued their trek through the snow. Lyra trudged along the terrain with no problem before she was joined by Beric Dondarrion.
"You don't look much like him." he commented, walking alongside the blind woman.
"Who?" Lyra asked, panting slightly as they started going uphill again.
"Your Father." Beric said, giving her a look before facing forward again, "I suppose you favor your Mother."
Lyra released a dry laugh. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know what my own face looks like anymore. Though people back home always said I looked like Lyanna Stark."
Beric smiled, "Indeed you do. She was quite the beauty, Lyanna Stark. The Northern woman who stole the prince's heart on that fateful day at the tourney held at Harrenhal." he wistfully said, "You were told Robert's version of the story, of how the prince abducted Lady Lyanna which sparked the war that took Lord Stark's Father, brother and sister."
"Forgive me, Lord Dondarrion, but I care very little for the past as of this moment when I have bigger things to worry about." Lyra said, not trying to be rude when she needs to focus on finding the dead.
Beric nodded, "Of course, Your Grace. On a lighter note, your wildling friend told me the Red Woman brought you back." Instantly, Melisandre's enigmatic smile flashed through her mind, "She did, but not fully." she said, recalling the exasperation both she and Melisandre felt when they realized the unintend3ed side effect that left her sightless yet at the same time, with a different kind of sight.
"Thoros brought me back six times. We both serve the same Lord." Beric said in his usual easygoing tone.
"I serve the North, thank you." Lyra said as they moved downhill again.
"The North didn't raise you from the dead." Beric responded simply, glancing at Lyra with a smile.
"The Lord of Light never spoke to me. Whatever he wanted, he never said anything. I was brought back without a word or instruction." Lyra said, still incensed by how a Fire God made her return to her dead body.
"And without your eyes...at least your human eyes." Beric added, making Lyra glance in his direction in surprise, "What?"
"The Lord of Light sent you back, but he didn't allow you to see with human eyes. No, he gave you something else entirely." Beric said with a knowing smile, one she can hear within his voice. "That's right, you're quicker, more agile and are able to see things before they happen. You can also see a human's aura, their souls to be precice if I'm not mistaken."
Lyra was silent, utterly speechless, "How do you know that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Beric smiled, "You weren't the first to come back from the dead. But your gift is quite rare, only those who are chosen can posses it. The person must have a selfless heart and must be willing to give up their life for the sake of others."
"Really, then why am I blind?" Lyra asked, not understanding why her eyesight had to be taken away in exchange for something she is still having a hard time trying to comprehend.
"A good leader doesn't need their eyesight to see the value of their people over power." Beric wisely said, "Lord Stark and Robb Stark were the good examples. They wanted to protect their people to the very end."
"And they got killed for it." Lyra said sadly, remembering how her honorable Father and brother were killed by power hungry monsters in this sick game for the crown.
"You got killed for it as well...but your sworn brothers weren't the ones who stabbed a knife into your heart." Lyra froze at his words, her damaged heart stopping for a moment.
"How-" she cut herself off when she felt a tickle within her brain, making her stop in her trek, her cloudy eyes turning white as she warged into Ghost and saw through his eyes and saw the dead marching in line from a vantage point above them. She stared at the marching corpses for a moment longer before looking up at a mountain peak that was roughly shaped like an arrowhead.
Lyra gasped as she came back into her body, "Your Grace, what did you see?" Beric asked, steadying the Northern Queen who swayed from warging.
"The dead." she panted, "They were close to a mountain shaped like an arrow head." she said, the picture of said mountain stuck inside her head as she began to move at a faster pace to where she sensed Tormund, "Tormund!" she called as she caught up to her wildling friend.
"Lyra?" Tormund turned to the approaching Queen, "The dead, they are close to a mountain, one that looks like an arrow head." she informed Tormund as the Hound's eyes widened in surprise at the description of what he had seen in the flames.
"You mean like that?" Sandor asked as he pointed at the mountain top in the distance. At Lyra's blank stare, he cursed, "Oh fuck, you're blind, of course. Yet you are still able to find the dead."
"One of the joys of warging into my Direwolf." Lyra said as they resumed their trek towards the mountain. After what felt like forever, they found Direwolf tracks that imprinted in the snow, but no Ghost in sight.
"Where's the beast?" Jorah asked, wondering where Lyra's Direwolf as he walked beside the Queen.
Lyra stared off into the distance, listening and sensing where her companion disappeared to, "I don't know. But he's smart, he's been North of the Wall before. If anyone can survive this place, it's him." she said, turning to Jorah's voice, "He'll turn up soon."
Tormund came back down the hill Ghost previously occupied, "There's at least eleven wights and one White Walker below us." he informed them after seeing the dead marching.
"Where's the rest?" Lyra asked, fearing the army was nearby. "If we wait long enough we'll find out." Tormund stated before they began moving again to set up a trap to capture a wight.
Lyra waited with her comrades, listening to the fire crackling as it lured the dead to where they will ambush them. The sound of approaching foot falls and the smell of decaying flesh filled her senses, making her shiver in disgust as she recalled the blue eyes that stared at her that day. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she switched on her inner sight, but was not prepared for what she saw in that world. The White Walkers, the wights, she could see their souls, but they weren't monster as she expected, they were screaming in pain and anguish, struggling to break free of the chains that dragged them around on the icy plane. Their cried echoed, begging for someone to save them, to end their suffering, to give them their freedom.
She didn't hear her comrades, she couldn't take their screams anymore as she sprung from their hiding place with Long Claw drawn and start fighting the dead. She was fast and agile, dancing with her sword as she and her comrades put down the corpses, her inner sight guiding her to the White Walker that commanded them, that held the chain that bound their souls. She was swift and careful, swinging her blade until it shattered the monster, shattering the chain that broke apart and freed the souls, turning them into spirit orbs that thanked her before flying into the sky.
She switched off her inner sight, feeling that one taking more out of her than she'd have preferred, making her stumble a little but kept herself upright as she listened to the inhuman screech of one last wight they were meant to capture. The sound that came out of the wight intermingled with the cries she heard in that world, causing her to tighten her grip on Long Claw, wanting nothing more than to put it out of its misery. But she stayed her hand for the sole reason of bringing proof to King's Landing in order to gain more allies to fight in the Great War.
When the wight was finally subdued, Lyra felt a change in the air, something she hasn't felt since the Massacre at Hardhome. Turning to where Gendry stood, she grabbed his arm and stared hard at him through the darkness, "Run back to Eastwatch, send a raven to the Dragon King, tell him what has happened." she ordered, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"I'm not leaving you!" Gendry exclaimed, but Lyra shook her head, "You're the fastest. Now go! And leave the hammer!" she ordered, shoving Gendry in the direction of where Eastwatch was as Tormund took the hammer from the blacksmith.
Lyra felt the ground shake beneath her feet, her body instantly going on the defensive as she ran with her comrades. She didn't think when she felt ice cracking underneath her, she went with pure instinct and ran towards the rock that stood out in the middle of the lake as the dead surrounded them and fell into the water through the thin ice.
When they finally got on that piece of rock, Lyra collapsed, her limps numb and her lips frozen. Her team, or what's left of them, and the wight, were safely on solid ground with a lake standing between them and corpses who thankfully can't swim.
Lyra laid face down out of breath, her hand still clutching Long Claw as she stared through the cold darkness in front of her, "Gendry, Aegon...please hurry." she whispered, praying to the Old Gods that her friend gets to the King in time.
Didn't know how else to end it. Sorry it took me so long to update. I'm still smarting from the crap ending of the GoT series. Fucking writers. But let me tell you that MY kind of ending won't be depressing the way D&D (Dung and Dickhead) wrote the final season. One more thing, next chapter will be very different from the episode. I'll leave you to create your theories. Thank you.
