NOTE:Hi guys!

Yes it's that time of the month again xD

I know most of you are not as interested in this whole rewriting process as they are in the second book's progress. And I get it, I truly do. But the fact is that I can not work on book two if I have not planned it successfully in book one. I have I think close to ten scenes that I need to add for the next parts to make sense. And those scenes are spread in all the chapters. Besides, I feel like building a bit more of the world in this book is central so that I don't have to spend as much time at it in other books later on.

That does not mean I'm not working on book 2 guys! It's just slower...

And I also have a day job that takes a lot of time from me and I am often tired when I come home so I write less... I'm sorry about that.

ANYWAY. So This chapter is world and character building. It's the layout of Kyria's relationships with her siblings. I hope you'll enjoy it.

See you down there!

Chapter 6: Growing up

The first week of the Fifth month of the year 297 a.c

Winterfell

Kyria Stark

Her conversation with her father, while appeasing her in ways she wouldn't have named, didn't ease the crack between Kyria and her little sister. Arya remained as angry and resentful as before. Even worse, each day seemed to make her angrier, and Kyria didn't want to indulge the little girl more than she already had. She had her own troubles to deal with. She didn't need Arya's temper on top of everything else.

The advice her father gave her stayed in a corner of her mind, and while she knew she wouldn't be able to truly be calm in front of Arya, she decided on simply avoiding the problem.

Unfortunately, this solution, while viable, didn't seem to work in the long run. Especially as the behavior seemed to spread around the family, like a disease..

Bran and Rickon seemed pretty much immune to any kind of resentment over Kyria. And Jon was more than helpful in relieving her of that sickening feeling of losing her mind. But the others...

She was trying to be patient. She was trying to understand. But they made it very hard to do so. The little patience she was able to pull seemed to flow between her fingers with every passing day. Hour. Minute.

When it wasn't Arya, it was Mother, whose accusing eyes were burning holes in her head. And when it wasn't mother it was Robb. Or worse, Theon. Or even worse, both of them. Watching. Wondering. Questioning. Always.

Like it was any of their business.

The time she spent in the library only grew despite their best efforts. Jon was patient. Kind. Determined. She offered to carry on on her own, more than once, but he never accepted. After the first week, she stopped offering. She needed his help.

To be honest, she craved the companionship they created together. With everyone else looking at her like a stranger, it felt good to finally build something with someone. Even if it was related to her nightmares. She didn't want to think of how alone she was. In her mind or outside of it. And Jon made her forget that.

They went through every single sigil of every single house that ever set foot in the Seven Kingdoms. Comparing the beasts with her monsters. The words with the voices. Anything.

They had suspicions about some of them. They drew parallels. Similarities between some of the sigils. But they couldn't be sure. Not completely, not enough for it to mean something.

The few houses they were almost sure about didn't mean anything. To her personally at least. She hadn't met them, in this life or the one before the accident. How could she possibly dream about them?

It was maddening. Even more so than the dreams themselves. And every time someone came lurking, or judging, made it worse.

She was driven by her need to know, to understand. A part of her felt it was wrong. To lock herself up in this tower, all day, every day. To lock Jon up in this tower. But Jon insisted. He wanted to help her. That didn't mean everyone got to make her feel like the worst person in the world because she refused to give up her quest!

It's always the same argument, really. She's not forcing anyone to stay with her. Jon is big enough to make his own choices. But no matter what, she felt like everyone was judging her. Accusing her of stealing the boy's precious time.

As calm and collected as she tried to appear, Kyria was getting seriously sick of it.

Her point of no return was reached one afternoon when Robb decided it was a very good idea to come to see them in the library. And an even better idea to stay and try to see what they were doing.

"It's personal, Robb…" she tried helplessly.

"Personal? Between Jon and you? What do you want to hide, Kyria?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"You told Jon."

"Robb…" tried their half-brother, uncomfortable between the two passionate redheads.

"Jon wanted to help me. He insisted. You just burst into the room and want to know everything for the sake of being nosy."

"What? No, I'm not! I am worried about you!"

Kyria wants to laugh.

"Tell me you didn't come here devoured by your own curiosity. Tell me. I dare you."

Robb frowned, displeased. Kyria waited for his answer.

He looked away, still frowning.

"I'm right then. Well, I don't want you to know! I don't have to tell you anything, Robb."

"Kyria, don't start, please. I am allowed to be worried about you."

"And I am allowed to get pissed at everyone always worrying about me! I am not made of glass!"

"Kyria, maybe-" tried Jon from his spot at the table behind her.

"If you want us to stop worrying about you then stop acting like that!"

"Like what?"

Robb pressed his lips. No doubt the answer wouldn't have pleased anyone in the room.

"Kyria, maybe Robb could help with-"

"With what? Being noisy and rude when I keep telling him I don't want to talk about it?" Kyria snapped.

She shouldn't be angry. She should calm down, take a deep breath and control herself, but she couldn't help it. Everything was bubbling inside her chest and she felt like she was going to burst. And Robb being here… prying to know what happened because of his blasted curiosity when she insisted she didn't want to tell him… It was all so… why couldn't he trust her? Why did he have to make her feel like she was wrong like she was bad at being herself?

"Stop being so selfish Kyria, why wouldn't you let me help for once?"

He might have realized his words. Or not. But it was too late and the little control she still had on her overwhelming feelings vanished immediately.

"Selfish?"

Stuck between them, Jon felt his own face pale. Oh no. This didn't sound good at all.

"You think I am… selfish?"

"What else am I supposed to call it? You think only of yourself, your problems, your troubles, your needs! You don't even spend time with any of us anymore! You only take Jon in here for hours and bury him in books!"

The words wouldn't have been more violent to her had they been slapped right on her face. Her trembling hands buried themselves behind her skirt as she took a step back, physically hit by the accusation pouring out of Robb's mouth. A lock of hair, disturbed by her fussing over it for hours, caught itself against the wet corner of her lips. Her fingers shook as she took it off, knocking a knuckle against a tooth.

"Why do you bother then! If I am as selfish as you say, leave!"

"Kyria don't be-"

"No! Get out! And take Jon with you while you're at it! I wouldn't want my selfishness to deprive you of your time together."

"Kyria-"

"No. Leave. See if I care. I can manage on my own."

Maybe she was harsh. Maybe Jon didn't deserve that. No, Jon definitely didn't deserve any of that. He was the only one helping her, and he knew how much she needed that. Right now though, she was too hurt to care.

They left her alone. Jon may have turned back to look at her. But she kept her resolve. They were all so desperate to have a piece of him, well they could keep him then! Leave her in her mess.

Who was he to judge her like that? Who were they, all of them? She had every right to try to understand what was happening, how could they blame her for that? None of them were in her place. None of them knew or understood what she was living.

And Jon, staying in a corner, letting Robb scold her like that- After everything...

Maybe it had been a mistake. Asking for his help, dragging him in her messes… Yes. Maybe. It was all too much and she should have taken care of it on her own. Those were her dreams after all. And they were here to stay, she had all the time in the world to deal with them anyway.

Kyria fell back on her chair, her face half-hidden behind her hand. The piles of books and neat paper where they painfully scratched every piece of information they found suddenly made her want to throw up.

The silence of the room engulfed her suddenly. The amount of work she might need to do to even start to scratch the surface of what could potentially mean her dreams was too much.

She couldn't do it. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.

She took the first book she could find that had nothing to do with it. Something about High Valyrian, and promptly started to read. Anything sounded better than what she had been doing for days. Even a language she might very well never use or know correctly.

Somehow her newfound isolation was not disturbed till supper. She promptly ignored anyone who would look in her direction once in the Great Hall and took her place at the main table.

Robb ignored her as she ignored him and it only made her more frustrated with him. How couldn't he see he was the one in the wrong here? How couldn't they understand?

It was all so confusing and overwhelming. She was angry at him, but there was this part of her that wanted him and Jon and everyone else to notice how upset she was. Kyria chased a piece of the pie on her plate, feeling disgusted with herself.

Maybe Robb had been right. Maybe she was selfish. Her stomach turned into painful knots as she slowly felt her emotions crumble around her like dust in the wind. She draped herself in every piece of control she had over her own body and nibbed on the piece of pie. Next to her, Sansa chirped something to gain her attention and Kyria forced herself to look away from her meal.

Behind her pretty sister, her eyes fell on Arya, who was happily munching on her own meal, while Bran seemed to talk animatedly about his latest mischief. As if feeling her eyes, the brown-haired girl turned around and promptly glared at her.

Now she wanted to lock herself in her room, and forget everything else. This was horrible. How was she supposed to suffer so many contradictory emotions? Was she truly losing her mind?

"Is everything alright Kyria?"

Kyria looked back at Sansa's pretty blue eyes and had to gulp several times to stop herself from actually vomiting. What kind of sister was she? What kind of person was she to ignore everyone around her like that? Could she be truly that horrible?

Could she truly feel that bad about that? While being what she was with this gap inside her head and this constant feeling of not being where she was supposed to be. Or who she was supposed to be.

"I-I'm fine."

She hated how her voice cracked.

Sansa bobbed her head, clearly not believing her. But the girl was too polite to catch her on her lie. From her other side, she could feel her mother's eyes. She ignored that too; her mother's worries for her were tiring, and she couldn't think about that on top of everything else. Not now.

The little food she ate that night heightened her stomach painfully. She kept pushing the food on her plate with the tip of her fork but couldn't convince herself to eat it.

Her dreams were confused that night. She barely slept.

The following morning she found the library unoccupied. No one awaited her, and Kyria did her best to ignore her growing discomfort.

She settled herself in a comfortable armchair, curled her legs under herself, and took back the book she had started yesterday. Anything was better than thinking in circles like she spent half the night doing.

She expected a day of quiet reading and resigned herself to her solitude. Only…

"Kyria? Can I bother you?"

She all but jumped out of the chair. Her fingers gripped the book and crumpled the page she was reading.

"Sansa!"

The girl blushed, her little hands worrying at the ends of her long sleeves. The fur she had stitched faithfully around the border of the sleeves seemed to shine against the pale lilac of the fabric.

She looked shy, and small, surrounded by books and dust. Out of her comfort zone. For a moment it reminded Kyria of Jon. How odd was that? Her two most distant siblings, who barely ever interacted with each other, suddenly felt almost identical in their unease around books and libraries.

"Can I help you, Sansa?"

The girl blushed and bobbed on her feet. She then seemed to remember herself and straightened her spine into a perfect angle, more worthy of a good lady. Of course she did.

"Would you mind my company in your reading?" the girl asked diplomatically.

The pompous way of talking almost made her smile, for it would have been very amusing to see Sansa talk to her like that, had it not reminded her of her own failures.

A pang of guilt squeezed Kyria's throat. Was she so hard to talk to that her little sister felt she had to use diplomatic speech with her?

"Of course, please."

The girl smiled demurely and took a seat. Kyria briefly noticed the book in the girl's hands. Maybe she wasn't there for her. Maybe she just wished to cultivate her-

Oh. Poetry. Figures…

Kyria held her comments and resumed her own reading. She struggled still greatly with the language, but with the introduction Maester Luwin had given all of the Stark children, she found herself managing better than she expected. It was even… thrilling to learn a new language. It was something she knew she could not experience often. The majority of Westeros spoke the common tongue. And the rest of it was only in Dorne. Not many wished to learn Roynish. From what she had gathered in the massive library tower, her ancestors had not been interested in the language. And she wouldn't dream of finding anything about the other Essosi languages, most of which didn't come with a written version.

Maybe she should look for something about the old tongue?

"Kyria?"

Kyria blinked and turned her attention to her sister, who shyly tried to look down at her book.

"What are you reading?"

"Something about high Valyrian."

"High Valyrian? Why?" asked the girl incredulously.

Kyria shrugged, a smile coming to her face. Why indeed. Maester Luwin's lessons in High Valyrian were known to be particularly hard to suffer. And boring.

But the language itself… There was something about the language. It made her want to learn more about it. Master it even, maybe.

"Because I wanted to know more." She confessed, "I find it fascinating. To know that people on the other side of the sea can talk differently than we do. Think of the possibilities. So many languages we don't even know. The world sounds so… so much bigger, you know?"

Sansa looked pensive.

"Maybe… but you will never go across the Narrow sea, why would you be interested in High Valyrian? No one talks High Valyrian in Westeros."

Kyria frowned.

"Why wouldn't I? No one can predict my future. Maybe the man Father will choose for me will be a traveler? Maybe he'll take me with him?"

"Why would he?"

"Why not? The King's father traveled to Essos with his wife."

Sansa seemed less and less inclined by the idea. She had so little taste for adventures. What a shame really. There was so much she could offer the world. Kyria was convinced of it.

"And they died."

...Well, when you put it like that...

"They did. But that does not mean I will too."

Sansa nodded slowly.

"I still don't feel like it has any use for you."

It was Kyria's turn to frown. Was it really the only thing she could think of for an argument?

"Do you always prioritize the activities that might be useful to you?"

Sansa's nod was almost incredulous.

"Of course I do." she said passionately, "Our duty as ladies of a great house is to learn to the best of our abilities to be accomplished ladies and attract a good lord's attention."

Good gods…

"As a daughter of the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, we have to behave perfectly. We have the blood of kings in our veins."

Kyria was impressed. She sounded like Septa Mordane. It was exactly what she told Kyria the last time she made her sit and listen to her lessons about the position of a Lady. The speech itself was long and boring. And the content had been so… degrading it had made Kyria want to scream from the top of her lungs. And that was almost exactly what she said back then. Word for word.

Revolting.

Like hell, she was going to spend the rest of her life as a living doll good to carry children and look pretty at the end of a Lord's arm.

She was certainly not going to be able to avoid marriage, for it was the purpose of a Lady of high birth. And as smart as people tended to make her sound, she was but one lady. Thinking she would be able to change an entire society by herself was both ridiculous and arrogant.

That said, she was determined to secure herself the brightest future she could find. Marriage without any bright sight for her life and interests was out of the question. She would rather die than end up living an unhappy life because someone decided to sell her to a horrible husband.

Being smart would allow her a choice. Showing she was smart should dissuade most of the more… unwanted suitors she might have.

Only clever men knew how useful a smart skilled woman could be for them. Hopefully.

"You… sound a lot like Septa Mordane."

Sansa seemed to take offense. Her face crumbled in indignation, and she straightened her spine on the edge of her seat. Like a thread ready to break.

"You should listen to Septa, Kyria!" she said, immediately jumping in defense of the elderly woman. "She is in charge of our education and it is her duty to prepare us for what will be our lives and duty as ladies of a great keep."

Good gods could the girl speak fast when she wanted to.

"I am not saying she isn't all of those things."

Sansa blushed.

"...Oh."

Her embarrassment only lasted a moment.

"You sounded like you were accusing me, though."

"I am not accusing anyone, sister," denied Kyria. Though… maybe she was. A little.

How could she not though? That speech had been insulting to their status, and the way that woman seemed to think didn't sit well with Kyria. She did not care for the Seven but if what that Septa said about it was any indication, she might end up hating them. Why should she bother listening to pompous gods and even more arrogant Septas when she had the Old Gods, who didn't care for anything else than being listened to and honored when it was demanded. No song, no gold. Nothing the Seven seemed to enjoy. Or, well, the servant of the Seven at least. Only the whispers of the gods are known for those who know how to listen.

"You sounded like you were, though. I know you don't like Septa Mordane much Kyria, but Mother says we have to behave accordingly, properly, like good ladies of the court and-"

"Southern ladies." cut Kyria dryly.

Sansa blinked.

"What?"

"Mother wants us to behave like southern ladies."

"W-well yes."

"Why should I?"

Sansa blinked again. She looked like an owl. A pretty, dumb, little owl. But Kyria persisted.

"Why should I look like a southern lady? I am not a southern lady."

The girl's cheeks flushed again.

"Why- yes, but- Mother says we need to take care of our appearances and-"

"I agree." nodded Kyria.

She wished she could find the words to explain what she wanted to explain. But Kyria wasn't even sure what it was herself.

She had noticed since the very first day she had "met" Sansa, how naive the girl seemed to be. She looked like a doll. She sounded like a bird. So… innocent. Scandalously so. Kyria couldn't pretend to know much about life in general, or the world outside of Winterfell. But the way that girl seemed to see the world… It was all wrong. There was no way this girl was not going to be in deep, deep trouble later. She was too naive, too trusting. Seeing her entire life as a song with the promise of a handsome knight coming for her, to save her from whatever hardship she imagined herself living.

Mother and Septa's songs were not a good way to raise a daughter. And with father busy teaching Robb, there was no one else willing to have another kind of lesson taught to them. In this, maybe it was a blessing she had been hit in the head. If she used to be like that before, that accident might have saved her life. Or if not, maybe her brain.

"Why do you sound like you don't believe in what Septa is trying to teach us? You do know how important it is don't you?"

"Sansa... "

Again with the need to make her understand.

"It's not a question of agreeing or not. It's just… I wonder if this is truly your opinion, or if you just repeat what Septa and Mother said to you."

"Why would I have a different opinion?"

Oh, gods.

"You know you can have your own thoughts? You are not supposed to follow everything other people say?"

"Of course I have! I'm a good daughter and a good lady! Why shouldn't I apply the advice everyone is so kind to give me?"

When they mold you into a perfect little doll it kind of is a problem.

"And why would their opinion matter more than yours?"

"I- but I think they are right." she protested weakly.

Kyria took a moment to look at her. Did she? There was so much innocence in those eyes. She tilted her head to the side, like a curious puppy and Kyria almost winced.

It was uncomfortable to think. Especially when the girl was nice enough to come to her while everyone else was avoiding the unbearable amnesiac sister.

But this naivety, this tiresome way Sansa had to take everything both Septa and their mother were giving them like the ultimate knowledge and wisdom of a life she wanted more than anything… This was the thing she didn't like about Sansa. It made her uneasy, sick almost with the possibilities. How couldn't they see it coming? Trusting anyone's word as long as it came from what would be thought as a position of power over young little Sansa… this could not end well.

If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention.

Sansa felt like a blank page. Younger and more innocent than even Rickon, whose character already started to show the wildness of the wolf blood in his veins...

She was a new canvas that everyone around needed to paint over, to create the image they wanted to see. The perfect version of Sansa Stark.

Mother, Jeyne Poole, Septa Mordane. Every time Sansa opened her mouth, she could hear one of them. And she couldn't picture why. Why did she need to mimic others? Why was she so reluctant in finding her own opinion, her identity? Something else than the naive little girl everyone needed to protect.

Why? Sansa was smart. She was smarter than even she understood. Kyria could see it sometimes. She had to remember every single house Maester Luwin ever talked about. She was said to have mastered the art of being a true lady at the tender age of three. Before even Kyria, even though she was three years older and as such had had more time training to the art. She talked with her clothes like no one did around her. Not that well. Not all the time. But Sansa did it perfectly. Every day the dress on her back meant something. Most of the time she couldn't exactly say what, only guess. But she knew Sansa was doing it.

So why? Why would someone as smart as Sansa choose to let others think for her? Why when she could be anything she aspired to? For someone so clever... She could have anything.

Why?

It was something Kyria could never do, no matter how hard she might try.

Kyria had no pretensions about her position in her family right now. She couldn't tell if she would ever be able to feel like part of the family. But… moping around in an empty library would give her nothing. Certainly no help.

Maybe teaching Sansa would help. She was building herself over other people. And Kyria was her sister. Her older sister. Maybe being an example… and sharing her own wisdom… maybe that could help to rip the naivety off of Sansa's pretty eyes?

"You seem to… have a lot of opinions that don't belong to you." she started hesitantly.

"Why do you think it is a bad thing?" asked Sansa.

"I think it is a good thing to listen to other people. But when other people start to take over your own….it's- sad, I think."

"Sad?"

"Yes. Because your own voice is drowned under everyone else's. You bury it deep inside you and it's sad."

Sansa frowned, not convinced.

"What if my opinion is the same as our Septa's?"

Kyria bites back a frustrated sigh. This won't work...

She thought carefully about her answer.

"Then what is your opinion?" she asked again, more to gain some time than anything else. "Explain it to me."

Sansa answered immediately, confirming what Kyria thought.

"I think a Lady should not cloud her mind with too much knowledge. It could be inconvenient in her future. It is not our place to learn too many things, like History or language. The place of a lady is beside her husband, giving him babies and supporting him by taking care of his household. We, women, are different from men and need to be aware of our places in society. "

Oh. Well. Huh. That was impressive. Her opinions were...very shortsighted. And sad. Septa was doing a good job with her.

"So you are saying that your aspiration in life is to be the perfect lady? That's it? Marry a Lord, Father will design for you and have his babies for the rest of your life like a broodmare?"

"Kyria!"

Kyria winced.

"My apologies. My words were harsher than my thoughts."

Sansa's cheeks stayed red, and she looked tenser.

"I will do my duty. It is my greatest pride to be able to do so."

Lie. Well learned and well put, but still. Lie.

"Really?" asked Kyria again, "Nothing else? Don't you have no other ambitions, no dreams? Just... being a dutiful wife?"

This time the answer took longer to come. Bringing hope to Kyria.

"Well," the girl blushed. "I- I would like- I mean if I could choose... I suppose I'd like to... to marry a southern lord. Like the songs, those minstrels sang during a feast. Like the one Father invited for my name day." she explained, her face suddenly illuminated by the shine of her eyes. "Being crowned at a tourney, being... wearing southern silk, living under the bright sun, where it's warm and always busy. Meet the King and the Royal Family, live at Kingslanding-" she abruptly cut herself, blushing brighter.

Oh my...

"Meet the prince." guessed Kyria.

She nodded, the twisted expression on her face making her look like she was fighting her own emotions. Excitation seemed to win.

"Oh imagine Kyria! The crown prince! They say his mother is the most beautiful woman of all the Seven Kingdoms! And with everything Father told us about the King, how could he be anything else than wonderful! And he's a prince. It would be like the songs!" sighed Sansa, a dreamy glint in her eyes.

...Well hello, Jeyne.

Kyria tried to hide her concern. The prince. The crown. Those things send a cold chill down her spine, a menace she could feel lurking in the corners of her perception. Hearing Sansa being so fascinated by the crown sounded bad. Really bad.

Beautiful. Awful. Beautiful. Awful.

Same coin. Two faces. Same coin.

Kyria's fingers trembled. Bad.

"How do you know all of this?" she asked shakingly.

They were too far North to have that many details about the South and the royal family. Whatever they had would have been distorted by the many times it had been told.

"The- Jeyne and I, we like to listen to the things people say about the south, and the capital, and- and the crown family."

"Yes but this is not what I meant. How do you know this for sure? Have you met the crown prince? Or the royal family? Have you been south?"

"Of course not!" laughed Sansa. "I wish I could, though. I wish we weren't that far north, away from everything." she lost her smile. "Everything here is so... dull. The weather, the land, the castles...We never get to have a tourney, we don't have knights... Only our Godwoods and Hunt and some feast from time to time. It's... it's-"

Oh, dear. Kyria smoothed the muscles of her face to control her wince.

"You hate our lives that much?" she asked with a pained voice. "I know it's not much... but it's still home... it's where our family had lived for thousands of years..."

The color left Sansa's cheeks so quickly, Kyria feared she would faint. But then it grew, back, flushed and ashamed as the girl lowered her gaze, her bright hair hiding her face. Something twisted Kyria's belly, as she observed her little sister fidgeting with her little hands wrapped tightly around her sleeve. Was it...

"Sansa, why did you come to me today? What is bothering you?"

Sansa twitched on her seat, her behind now barely touching the comfortable chair, and blushed even harder. She seemed to struggle with her feelings. What Kyria previously took for excitement at the mention of the South seemed far more worrying suddenly. Her head was lowered and hidden between her shoulders, heavy with shame and embarrassment and Kyria worried. What was happening?

"I- How do you- How are you doing it? Even when there is so much happening around you -you… Robb likes you, Arya likes you, Bran and Rickon… and you are not… How do you fit?"

"You think I fit? With everyone? Sansa, Robb, and I fought, Jon is avoiding me, and I refused to speak to them again, either of them. Arya is angry with me and no one knows how to talk to me without mentioning my memories or how strange and odd I am, and you, dear sister, you think I fit?"

Sansa's face blurred in front of her, and Kyria had to blink a couple of times to understand it was her tears, gathering in her eyes that made it so. She looked away, hiding her distress to the best of her ability. The growing hair on the side of her head, where her scar was, was now long enough to brush past her shoulder when they managed to free themselves from her braids. Some of those heavily curled locks fell on her face as she felt it crumble down.

"Kyria?"

"It's nothing Sansa, it doesn't matter. It's my fault anyway," she confessed from the tip of her lips.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

The innocent question made her fight her smile. Of course. Here she was, fighting against her conscience and struggles while pretty little Sansa didn't even notice something was amiss around her siblings. The cruel voice in the back of Kyria's head whispered maybe it was the reason why this girl felt so out of place. If she didn't bother paying attention to anything else than her own problems, she was never going to feel truly at her place surrounded by so many siblings.

Suddenly, her own thoughts slapped her. Leaving her cold and frozen in the exactitude of their sound. And the horrible line she could draw to her own behavior.

Here she was in her arrogance, thinking she could teach a lesson to her little sister, while she had behaved the exact same way, locking herself into her own problems, and dragging her poor brother with her for the sake of her own peace of mind. Forcing him to spend day after day with her, in this dusty library looking for something they might very well never find.

"Kyria?"

"What happened?" she repeated bitterly, "I am a selfish creature, Sansa. Like you. We only bother with our problems, thinking of what we want, what we desire, with no mind or care for what we have."

"Kyria!"

"You tell me of the south, of how much you want to see it. You tell me of your dreams, your future, the life you wish to have. But I hear nothing of the present. Of Winterfell. Of our family. Only complaints and pain you may very well have caused yourself."

The girl stood up, outraged by Kyria's words.

"How- You're wrong! I have done nothing wrong! I am a good lady and a good daughter!"

"You are. And you wear it like a badge every day of your life. You hide behind it all the time, like an armor you need to carry so no one can ever touch you."

"Septa Mordane said Ladies must never forget their manners. That we are noble ladies and that we must act properly, not like the common folk. She says Courtesy is a Lady's armor! We should always take great care to cultivate it and use it wisely!"

Damned that woman.

"Aye, a lady's armor. And do you see Father or Robb wearing their armor all the time? Even when there is just us? Just family?"

"I-"

"No, they don't, nor do they need to. Because they trust their family not to hurt them. You hide behind your facade of the perfect lady and you forget to live as Sansa. That's why you feel like you don't fit in around others. You don't let yourself fit."

Her cheeks flushed, this time in anger.

"You are no better Kyria! You hide in the library all the time!"

"I never said I was! I am as selfish and stupid as you are in this aspect! But it's not because I do it that you must too. You at least don't have the excuse of a damaged brain to excuse your behavior. Act like yourself and they will accept you like you are."

"You know nothing about any of that Kyria!"

"And you do?"

Finding nothing to say, Sansa huffed, stomped her foot, and fled the library, her fiery hair floating around her like the wings of an angry bird. In her own distress, Kyria couldn't help but think that she just acted far more like herself in this fit of temper than at any other point during their awkward and painful conversation.

Left alone, Kyria curled around her book and basked in her discomfort. The realization was hard to swallow. And even harder to face.

Had she truly been this selfish? Taking Jon for herself. Locking herself in her quest, as if nothing else mattered?

She did. She could remember clearly thinking just that.

She felt wrong. Disgusted. She didn't want to leave this room and face anyone ever again. She had decided. She would spend the rest of her life locked in the library tower, and never face anyone ever again. Let the madness of her mind take her away. It would be better than facing Robb and Jon and Arya and everyone else and feel the judgment of their gaze.

TBC.

So?

What do you think?

I am not as fond of that chapters as I am of others. But I think it's essential for Kyria's building as a character. And for her relationship with others later on.

The thing with Jon is a massive change from the first version, I know. But it's something I thought would be interesting to add. Same with Sansa. I was kind of bothered by this way I had to show Kyria always having long speeches where she would educate her sisters like a teacher and the girls would just eat it up. It's something I try to correct. Because to me reading it again it looked a little bit too much like I was sermonising the readers and my characters through Kyria and its bad writing xD.

On that other note NEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWS

I opened a discord server!

8zf3AnmR

The Wolf Queen!

Just remove the spaces and you could be able to reach it normally?

I am still new at this whole Discord thing so it might be awkward at first xD But I thought that could interest you guys... At least we'll be able to talk freely there and you'll be able to yell at me for more chapters more efficiently xD

I hope to see you there!

As Alwyas I take the time to thank my wonderful Beta Max who bothers with me and my SLOOOOOW path xD

Don't forget to comment to share your opinion I am dying to know what you guys all think about this stuff ^^

See ya guys!