If Jon Snow was born a girl named Lyarra Snow.
Lyarra x Robb Stark. (If you like Jonsa this is basically the same thing.)
Canon typical violence, explicit sexual content, gore, mentions of assault, death, Not Daenerys friendly, lm sorry but we do not stan colonial mindsets, UNEDITED.
(I don’t own the images but I made the mood board.)
LYARRA MISSED WINTERFELL, as she stared at the dragon shaped towers and walls, she felt her stomach sink knowing she wouldn't be seeing her home anytime soon. It was a dreary place, Dragonstone, unnatural and unsettling upon the rocky hills it sat on. She peered closely at the closest tower, The Sea Dragon that gazed serenely out at them, its snarling face peering down at her and her people, almost daring her to enter.
"I don't like it," She told Ser Davos, who sat in front of her on the small row boat taking them closer and closer to shore. Beside her sat Tormund, the large wilding had gone frighteningly quiet at the sight of Dragon Stone, huddling close to Lyarra's small frame.
Her good mother, Catelyn Stark looked green and pale as her red hair whipped around her face, her features growing older in the pale sunlight. "It is..a sight," She muttered, trying to find something kind to say but turning up empty handed.
Tormund grunted, "Ugliest fucking thing I have ever seen," he muttered, voice low and gruff.
Lyarra hummed in agreement, running her hands through Ghost's white fur, her Direwolf was not happy being this far south and had her distaste known for much the journey. She had told the wolf to stay behind if it bothered her so much, but the wolf was stubborn.
She looked back over her shoulder to spot the three other rowboats following their own. She spotted the Blackfish sat in one, Grey Wind's large body taking up a good amount of space, but there was just enough room for Alys Mormont to join them both. Her husband's wolf had promptly followed her south, no doubt by the demands of his master.
"It's not the..most appealing," Ser Davos grunted, running his stumps for fingers over his grey beard.
"You don't say," she muttered. She fiddled with her fingers a moment, before running her sweaty palms over her dark grey skirts. A dress her good mother had insisted she dressed in before they left the ship. Despite her long travels she needed to look like a Queen, as if the bronze circlet with delicate chains woven into her hair was not enough of an indication. She had insisted that she wore her sword upon her hip, wolves or not she would not part from Longclaw.
They sat in silence the rest of the way.
Ghost was quick to leap from the boat onto shore, shaking out her damp fur, with help from Ser Davos Lyarra stepped out of the boat, hard leather boots sinking into the wet sand, her skirts growing damp with water. It annoyed her greatly but at least it wasn't mud. The one thing Lyarra hated was getting mud on her dresses.
Lady Catelyn helped her adjust her dress and hair, letting Lyarra do the same for her.
Soon they were all joined by their party, just as Lyarra spotted their welcoming party making their way out of the Sea Dragon's tower.
Ser Brynden took his place behind her to her right, black cloak thrown over his shoulders, an indication of his position as her sworn sword. Grey Wind and Ghost stood on either side of her, nearly as tall as herself. Alys took to standing to her left next to the Black fish, her own white cloak thrown over her shoulders. Lady Catelyn took her place to the left of Lyarra, on the other side of her son's wolf, while Ser Davos took his place to Lyarra's right just on the other side of Ghost. The rest of her Northern guard flanking behind Alys and Ser Brynden.
Among their ranks a large wooden box wrapped in chains. One that Tormund handled himself.
Situated, Lyarra observed her welcomers. A young woman, maybe Arya's age, with dark skin and dark hair, dressed in all black smoothly drifting towards them, next to her a man Lyarra could recognize with her eyes closed. Tyrion Lannister waddled along side the woman, a golden dragon pinned to proudly to his chest, they were flanked by a dozen Unsullied and Dothraki.
She heard Ser Brynden grumbled angrily at the sight of them.
She felt a sense of satisfaction at the sight of their weariness when they spotted her wolves.
They came to a stop a good few meter's ahead of them, Tyrion smiled warmly, "Bastard of Winterfell."
She felt her men bristle, could feel Ser Brynden open his mouth to scold him, but waved him off, "The Imp of Casterly Rock," she returned, simply, not at all moved at the sight of him. He looked uglier then she had last seen him,Tyrion Lannister had never been kind to look at, not like his brother Jaimie, his missing nose did him no favours.
"I believe the last time we saw each other, was when I was accused of trying to murder your brother," he turned to her good mother. "Ah! Lady Catelyn, how lovely it is to see you again."
"Lord Tyrion," Lady Catelyn returned stiffly.
"Yes, well she wasn't too far off," Lyarra brought his attention backover to her, "It was your brother who did the crime, last I heard he lost his hand, not enough retribution if I do say so myself," she told him bluntly. She saw his jaw lock at the mention of his brother, eyes flashing viscously.
Ohh, bad blood between brothers?
Lyarra motioned to her people, "Might I introduce, Ser Davos Seaworth," the man nodded once at Tyrion, not bothering to offer his hand. "You burned half his sons alive with Wildfire," she watched the dwarf wince.
"Great sailors they were," Ser Davos muttered, "Not much they could do against fire."
"To my right is Ser Brynden the Blackfish, my sworn sword, and to the left Lady Alys Mormont the head of my Wolf Guard," she motioned to them respectively, "I'm sure your remember Ghost and Grey Wind."
Grey Wind growled as Ghost bared her teeth.
Tyrion swallowed thickly, "Yes, beautiful beasts they are. Much Larger than when I last saw them."
"Aye,' Lyarra ran her hands through Ghost's fur.
"May I introduce Missandei," he motioned to the young girl, who nodded politely in greeting, her eyes lingering on Lyarra with an odd look. "The queens most trusted advisor."
"Welcome to Dragonstone," she spoke clearly, soft yet strong. "Our queen knows that this has been a long journey and appreciates the effort made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons?"
A thick silence fell over them, Lady Catelyn bristled and once again Lyarra felt her men tense.
"Absolutely not," She denied simply.
Lady Missandei blinked, mouth opening and closing.
"Your Queen has not offered us bread and salt, and your men are armed," she motioned to the Dothraki and the Unsullied, "I have also noted the archers on the hills," she pointed out, nodding at the Stone Drum and the Wyndwyrm, she wouldn't have spotted them if the Dothraki didn't stand out against the dark stone. All brown leather, and blue paint. "I understand that they have been ordered to shoot us down should we make any wrong move. I don' t think it fair that you expect me and my men to enter a place on non neutral territory unarmed around people we do not know, with no insurance that we are to leave unharmed."
"I will not make the mistake of leaving my sword at the door, last time I made such a grave error, I nearly lost my head and my husband under the false pretence of peace," she explained. "It is not a choice I will make again. There are three options here, My Lady," she said not unkindly. "You either fetch bread and salt and have your Queen swear to do no harm, you let us keep our weapons, or my men and I will turn around and sail back North."
"Her Grace," Ser Brynden corrected sharply.
"Tis' not negotiable," Lyarra warned.
The Lady Missandei looked lost as she tried to articulate her next words.
"Leave their weapons," Tyrion ordered, "Her caution is justified."
Missandei pursed her lips, "Once you know Our Queen you learn that she means you know harm."
"Your Queen hasn't done much to prove it."
A movement drew her attention and she noticed some Dothraki moving their row boats and pursed her lips.
How charming, weapons or not, the Dragon Queen had no plans on letting them go. She bristled at the display and Ghost bared her teeth.
"Please," The Lady Missandei motioned for them to follow. "Follow me."
She glanced back towards the horizon.
Bran better be right or she was going to throw him from his wheelchair and pummel him till he was well and truly broken.
The party made their way up a winding narrow pathway that led towards the massive stone Tower known at the Stone Drum, the main keep of Dragonstone. She walks measuredly behind Missandei, Ghost prowling next to her and Grey Wind pacing just behind her.
Lord Tyrion, looked at her, face grim, "I hear Sansa is alive and well."
"She is," Lyarra grunted.
"Does she miss me terribly?"
She narrowed her eyes at the man, the deep violet pulsing, "Why should she?" She inquired, giving him a glare. "Because you were kind to her?" she scoffed. "Sansa tells me everything, Lord Tyrion, everything."
He had me stripped, he fondled me but when I showed no want, he let me be.
Tyrion had the gall to look ashamed, "A sham marriage, and unconsummated."
"We are well aware Lord Tyrion," Lady Stark snapped, viscously. "We didn't ask."
He ignored her, fixing his gaze on Lyarra, "She's a lot smarter than she lets on."
"She's starting to let on."
They walked several paces, in silence, "Tell me, how does a bastard end up as Queen in the North, married to he brother no less?"
She snorted, "It seems that you are well behind on the latest Westerosi gossip Lord Tyrion," she smiled knowingly. "I'm sure your spider will tell you when he is ready."
"When have you ever known me to gossip, my Lord?" She raised her brows, "Unlike you, I do not talk unless I need to."
Tyrion bristled just as loud deafening shriek shook the ground, a gust of wind had her her hair whipping around her face, as she looked around to spot the culprit. She noted the pearl coloured scales, glinting in the sun light before she noted the monstrosity that owned the.
Her men shifted and ducked, away from the dragon's looming shadow, while her godmother reached out to grip Lyarra's sleeve.
Another screech and she saw the second Dragon, red and black in it's colouring, larger in size.
Lyarra watched them, ridged in her place, unmoved.
Tyrion looked back at her, surprised, noting that none of her people had dropped down in fear.
Tyrion motioned to the two beasts circling the tower, "I'd say you'd get used to them, but you never really do."
Lyarra did not respond, silently watching for a long moment before, looking to The Hand of the dragon queen. "I thought she had three," she observed lightly.
Lord Tyrion shifted wearily on his feet as the Lady Missandei wrung her hands nervously. "She does," he answered slowly. "The third is more free spirited than its siblings."
"Is he?' Lyarra muttered looking back up at the sky, watching the cream coloured Dragon circle the sky closer to her party.
"Come now," Tyrion began his trek once again, "Their mother awaits you."
Daenerys Tagaryen was a small woman, not that Lyarra could judge, she was pale, ghastly so, her white blonde hair did not help her ghostly appearance, stark against the black obsidian throne. The only ounce of colour being the deep violet of her eyes.
The same shade as Lyarra's.
Missandei climbed up the steps that lead towards the elevated throne, and stood to her Queen's right side. Clearing her throat, she spoke. "You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the iron throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains."
Lyarra blinked at the title.
The silence was broken by Tormund boisterous laugh, that was quickly quelled by fist to the side from Ser Brynden.
They should have left him out side, she thought in amusement.
The Dragon Queen bristled.
Ser Davos steps forward but Lady Catelyn beats him to it, clearing her throat she speaks, "Before you stands, Lyarra Ironside of House Stark, the White Wolf, Queen of the North, Vale and Riverlands, the Resurrected, Protector of the First Men, friend of the Freefolk, Commander of Giants and Tamer of Beasts."
Another snort from Tormund, but at least he did not cackle, at least he was aware as to what Lady Catelyn was referring to. Ridiculous, yes, but not unfounded.
The Dragon Queen's eyes narrow even more at such a pronouncement, Lyarra had just claimed three of the seven kingdoms she had come to conquer. her lips twist in displeasure but she is quick to smile charmingly, "Thank you for travelling so far, My Ladies, My Lords. I hope the seas treated you kindly."
Another bristle among her men.
Her wolves bare their teeth as Ser Davos scowls. "Apologies," he began, "I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know, however Queen Lyarra is no Lady, your grace. she is a Queen, chosen by her people."
It is Tyrion who speaks, "I thought she married the King chosen by his people."
Lady Stark shoots the man a dangerous look, "My son, King Robb lost his home and his crown due to some unfortunate mistakes, Queen Lyarra won the Crown and our home back from those wished to steal it. The Northerners chose her as their Queen, just as your people chose you. She chose my son to be her King, to prove himself once again to our people."
"Forgive me..." Queen Daenerys glanced at Tyrion.
"This is Lady Catelyn Stark, wife of the late Ned Stark," He answered, "And Ser Davos Seaworth, Your Grace."
"Forgive me, Ser Davos," the Dragon Queen looked to the man before looking to acknowledge the woman to Lyarra's right. "Lady Stark, I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torn Stark who bent the knee Tony ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen. Torren swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Do I have my facts wrong?"
Lyarra noted how her good mother narrowed her eyes at the admission of her lack of education. Tis was not thing to simply let out into the open air.
Ser Davos cocked his head, speaking on her behalf as Lyarra took her time to observe the people in the room. She noted the Dothraki guards, and beside the obsidian stood two women. One was sat in a wooden chair, dressed in black, she was old and looked jaded. If Lyarra was correct, from Sansa’s descriptions this must be Olenna Tyrell.
The Other woman was tan, stunning to simply look upon, with dark hair and dark eyes. A Dornish Woman. Perhaps a part of the sand Snake. She looked at Lyarra murderously.
"I wasn't there your grace."
"No, of course not," The Dragon Queen smiled again, that sickly sweet smile of hers. "But still, an oath is an oath. In perpetuity means--," she cocked her head, "what does perpetuity mean, lord Tyrion?"
Lyarra cocked her head narrowing her eyes, was she asking to be rhetorical, or was she not sure on the proper definition. She looked to Lady Olenna who scowled to herself.
She understands what's happening here.
"Forever." Lord Tyrion answered dutifully.
"Forever," The Dragon Queen echoed, "So I assume, my Lady, that you’re here to bend the knee?” She finally spoke directly to Lyarra, her smile curling higher at the sight of the Wolf Queen’s perturbed expression.
It was a snub. A slight. Refusing to acknowledge the other monarch in the room was an offence. She was trying to make Lyarra feel as though she was not truly what she said she was. The elevated throne, the refusal to acknowledge Lyarra's title, regarding her last.
Lyarra snorts lightly, a smile of her own curling her lips, "No, I am not."
The room grew tense, there was a small pause.
"Oh?" The Dragon Queen inquired. " Well, that is unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"
Lyarra could not do that even if she wanted to and she really wanted to.
She takes a moment to speak, unhurried to explain herself, "I on behalf of the North will forgive your lack of knowledge, your grace," she begins. "I will also take it upon myself to ignore your admission of being uneducated," she sees Lady Olenna and Lord Tyrion wince, "I am not one to shame a person simply on the what they do not know, but I do not have pity on those who refuse to educate themselves when they have the resources to do so," she shrugged her shoulders delicately, "But then again, I said that I would forgive you for that," She takes her time to straighten her spine and level her head, "the facts are as follows, House Targaryen broke faith with House Stark first. Beginning with the abduction, rape and death of my aunt Lyanna," the lie felt like poison on her tongue but she continued. "Then when my Grandfather and Uncle simply sought to have returned, you father burnt my grandfather alive and watched as my uncle strangled himself to death, cruelly dangling hope just outside of reach," she took a small step forward, clasping her hands behind her back.
“My father was a cruel—.”
"I am not quite finished your grace," Lyarra holds up a hand, relishing in the look of indignation that crawled up the Dragon Queen's face. "I'm sure you have seen what it is like to see a man burnt alive, if I'm not mistaken it is where your title The Unburnt, derived from. Its an ugly thing to see, viscous and unforgiving. The smell, their tortured screams. Tell me do you know what it is like to be strangled?"
The Dragon Queen's jaw works, "No, I can't say I have."
"It burns," she said simply, "I have never known what it is like to be touched by fire, but I was quite sure, that was how it felt like. It was terrifying, agonizing, and in my desperation I hurt myself more than I hurt the whip locked around my neck," Lyarra's eyes narrow and her jaw locks, she reaches up to brush the white claw marks on her neck, made by her own fingers. "Your House broke faith to mine in such unfounded ways, it preposterous to think that we'd want to honour an oath so violently broken."
It takes the Dragon Queen a long moment to collect herself, "My father was an evil man," She admits through her teeth, "On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family," she smiles in a show of empathy, "And I ask you not judge a daughter by the sins her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the Kingdom's ever known."
Were they? Were they really?
"Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden the North," she straightened in her seat, "I am the last Targaryen, Lyarra Snow. Honour the pledge you ancestor made to mine. Bend the Knee and I will name your Husband Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who will destroy it."
Lyarra feels her lips purse in displeasure. "I find it harder to ignore your lack of education, your grace," she feels Lady Catelyn tug on the sleeve of her dress as the Dragon queen bristles yet again. " I know not of the peace you speak of, I can list several instances in which your family failed to keep the peace both with the Westerosi people and themselves. I can start with The Faith Militant Rising or would you prefer I begin with The Dance of Dragons."
The Dragon queen's face twists in displeasure, she opens her mouth but Lyarra disregards what she has to say, "If you ask me not to hold you accountable for your father's sins, I ask you not to hold me to my ancestor's vow. You cannot disregard our claim to the North when it is well known that the First men have been on this continent longer than any Andal, Rhoynar, or Valyrian conqueror."
The woman's tiny fists clench. "Then why are you here?'
"Because I need your help, and you need mine."
The woman looked bemused upon her throne, rolling her eyes, she looked to Tyrion before looking back at Lyarra. "Did you not see two dragons flying over your head when you arrived?
Lyarra smirked, "I did, quite hard to miss, but I will admit that I was disappointed to see two instead of three."
Another scowl, "One of my children is more adventurous than their siblings."
"Is he?" Lyarra asked, and she saw expressions of inquiry pass along the Dragon Queen's people.
"And did you see the Dothraki? All of whom have sworn to kill for me."
"Even harder to miss when they steal away my boats," Lyarra commented lightly not at all perturbed.
"And yet I need your help?"
"Not to defeat Cersei," Ser Davos said. "You could storm Kings Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hells, we almost took it and we didn't even have dragons."
"But you haven't," Lyarra observed, "Why not? You seem quite capable, and from what I've heard of you, not a single hour of sleep would be missed if you did," Lady Catelyn tugged on her sleeve scoldingly. "The only reason I can see is Because you refuse to show them that you are like Cersei, you want to do better, and I will give you praise where its due, it seems to be working."
"That still does not explain, why I need your help."
"Because right now, You, me, Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing at a game screaming that the rules aren't fair."
The Dragon Queen's eyes flared as she turned to Tyrion,"You told me you liked this woman, that she was smart."
"I do and she is," Tyrion grunted, shooting Lyarra a scolding look, much to her annoyance.
"In the time since she has met me, she's refused to call me queen, she's refused to bow, and now she is calling me a child."
Lyarra raised a brow, she was being purposefully dense, was she not?
"I believe she was calling all of us children, Your Grace," He explained. "Figure of speech."
"Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter is over if we don't defeat the the enemy to the North."
The Dragon Queen snarled, "As far as I can see, you are the enemy to The North."
Lyarra huffed and looks to Tyrion, "My Lord, in the letter you sent to me, as your friend, you told me that your Queen was kind."
"You said she will listen to what I have to say, you said she would respect the north, respect me."
"Since I have arrived on this island, she has not done anything expected by a proper host, she did not offer bread and salt, she took away my means of transportation and has refused to acknowledge me by my title, am I unreasonable to be offended by each of these slights, my Lord?"
"Am I?" she inquired sharply.
"Tell me, if I was to turn around right now, will I be able to leave this island unarmed?"
"I see, so you are a liar?'
Lyarra held up a silencing hand and fixed a stern glare on the Dragon Queen's reddening face, "I am not your enemy, Your Grace, The dead are the enemy."
She scoffed viscously, "The Dead?" she turned to Tyrion who looked both flustered and offended. " another figure of speech?"
"The Army of the Dead Marches on the Wall as we speak," Ser Bryndeen grunted from behind her, not bothering to introduce himself.
"An Army of the Dead?" Lord Tyrion inquired incredulously.
Lyarra grinned,"Do you think me a liar, My Lord?"
"Only when it suits you, Your Grace."
She shrugged,"Fair Enough," she turned back to the opposing queen, "These past few years there had been reports from the Night's watch about abandoned villages and fleeing Freefolk. We thought nothing of it, for a time, but when I travelled towards The Wall I learned just what the Freefolk were fleeing from."
"They sure as Hells weren't running from Ice and Snow," She retorted " The Army of the Dead is very much real. The White Walkers are real. The Knight King Is Real, I have seen him with my own eyes, I have fought them, and as we sit her squabbling amongst ourselves he grows stronger and if he makes it beyond the wall...We're finished."
The Dragon Queen watched them for a long moment, "I was born at Dragonstone, not that I can remember it," She stood and began to make her way down the steps with slow meticulous movements. "We fled before Robert's assassins could find us," she stopped and cocked her head, "Robert was your father's best friend,no? I wonder if he knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib."
"My husband knew, and was wholeheartedly against the slaughter of children,"Catelyn's voice was sharp and cutting as she defended her husbands honour. "You would do well to to tread carefully speaking of a dead man you do not know."
"Ned Stark was the best of us," Alys Mormont grunted, "The North went to war for him, dead or not we will do so again! Ned Stark!" She bellowed.
"Ned Stark!" The northerners echoed.
The Dragon Queen bristled, "I apologize," she snipped, looking annoyed that her monologue had been oh is dutifully interrupted. "It does not matter anymore of course. I spent my life on foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don't remember all their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled,. do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile? faith," Her violet eyes closed in the dim light, "Not in gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. the Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea. Any sea," she made sure to clarify. "They did for me. I was born to rule the seven kingdoms, and I will." She took a step to close prompting Grey wind and Ghost to snap at her in warning. She paled and made sure to a step back.
Lyarra ran soothing hands through their fur before stepping forward, closing the space between herself and the Dragon Queen. "Was all that supposed to mean something to me?" she inquired, she watched the woman's face contort in rage. "You think you're special? Spare me the misery. If you keep this up, the only kingdom you will be pulling will be a graveyard, I came here thinking that you cared--."
"The war with my sister has already started--." Lord Tyrion started, holding a placating hand up to keep the two from butting heads. "You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting...whatever you claim is beyond the wall."
Ser Davos took a step forward, silently pulling Lyarra back a few steps, " You don't believe her, we expected such," he waved at the northmen who took steps away, spreading around leaving only Tormund, Ser Brynden and Lady Alys in the middle of the formation, The long wooden box standing upright. "but if destiny brought Daenerys Targaryen to our shores, it made Lyarra Ironside Queen in The North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros," he nodded at her before nodding at Lyarra, "She is the first to make allies of Wildings and Northmen, the first to bring giants..actual giants to name her their leader. She was named Queen in the North, not because of her birthright, she is a bastard, she has none, but she did that, she did that and so much more. All those stone cold sons of bitches chose her, a woman, to be their leader because they believe in her. All those things you don't believe in? She's fought those things, faced them head on not for herself but for the good of her people. She risked her life for those people, she took a knife to the heart for her people, gave her own life--."
Lyarra cleared her throat to silence him, Ser Davos gave her an apologetic look. Tyrion went to interject but Ser Davos turned to Tormund who nodded, Lady Catelyn released a sound of dread and went to stand behind some of the men.
"We bring proof of the dead, we wouldn't have come if we didn't," Lyarra snipped coldly, as Tormund unwrapped the box holding the chains tight in his hand.
"Aye," she looked at the Dragon Queen, "I would advise you to step back, Your grace." she moved to the wall to pull at torch form where it was being held. Alys removed the locks from the box. There was silence as she took a step back, hand on her sword.
Tormund gripped the chain tightly in his hand and kicked the box over, the dead man came sprawling out of the box screeching and crawling, reaching for anyone or anything. She heard Missandei scream in terror and heard others gasp and cower. Lyarra nodded at Ser Brynden who unsheathed his sword and promptly cut the thing in half. It fell to the ground, both halves wriggling, still screeching.
The sight chilled Lyarra to the bone but she clenched her jaw and straightened her posture.
Alys sliced at its reaching hand, letting it flop to the ground, where it continued to move. Lyarra walked over to the severed hand and gripped it, holding it tightly she held it up to be seen, holding the torch in hand, she spoke, "They can be destroyed with fire," she set the limb alight before prompts dropping it to the floor. the body paused and waited as if feeling the fire swallow its limb whole. "Dragon glass,' Alys pulled a dragon glass dagger from her boot, salvaged from beyond the wall. " Or Valyrian Steel."
They watched Alys kill the poor thing, expression pale with disgust, they all watched it turn to dust, before their eyes.
"If we don't work together," She turned to the Dragon Queen, "This will be the fate of everyone you know. If this happens, it will not matter who's skeleton sits on the iron throne." She let her gaze sweep around the room, noting a new arrival standing next to Lady Olenna, soothing her but looking pale himself.
"Lord Varys," she greeted, "I was wondering when I'd see you."
The man inclined his balled head, "Your Grace. I see the reports are true,” there was something else to his tone, a knowingness that thrilled Lyarra to the bone.
"Very much so." To everything you think.
She turned back to the foreign queen, who looked impossibly paler, "This is why we're here, to have you join our fight for the living, and to let us mine the dragon glass, on this island. We could arm thousands of men with the amount you currently sit on."
It took a long moment for the woman to collect herself, she took several steps back and turned away from them. "You said fire kills them?"
"So you need my dragons?"
"They would be a great help."
"And my men,' she turned back to them. "How many are there?"
"About a hundred thousand of them, maybe more.”
"All things you need,' She began, "I have."
Lyarra's expression fell, "Aye."
"I will help you, I will abandon my war with Cersei and march North to help you, with my men my dragons and all the Dragon glass you need, if you bend the knee-."
"Of course," Lyarra shook her head with viscous scoff.
"Your Grace," Tyrion spoke trying to soothe the issue before Lyarra would explode. "I-If it does not matter, you might as well kneel. Swear you allegiance to Queen Daenerys. Help her defeat my sister and together our armies will protect the North from the dead."
There is no time to fight this war and march North in time to fight another.
"You aren't listening, there is no time!" Lady Catelyn protested.
This was going nowhere, she should have taken her chances with Skagos, savages or not they respect Starks enough to see the truth. Care enough about life, but Bran had insisted that she come here, to try and reason with this woman.
The Dragon Queen cocked her head, violet eyes the same shade as the Wolf Queen's narrowed in a viscous glare. The Wolf Queen did not flinch, did not waver. "It takes no time bend the knee."
"I beg to differ," Layarra returned her tongue dripping with viscous sarcasm. "I have bad knees, you see, can never get them to bend." From behind her chortled Tormund chortled lightly at her jibe, and the Northmen in her guard straightened proudly. She made a mocking face of melancholy, "Its quite the conundrum you see--."
"You dare ask me to betray the people who put their faith in me?!" Lyarra bellowed right back. Beginning to pace as her wolves growled and snapped. "Why would I do that?! I don't know you! everything Tyrion said about you seems to nothing but a lie--."
"If would just give her chance--!"
"Enough, Imp!' She snapped,rendering him silent,"I am done speaking to you," she levelled the Dragon Queen with a fiery glare, violet eyes beginning to bleed red in the firelight from the torch, her lips pulling up into a snarl, "Your claim to the Iron Throne rest entirely on your fathers name, the very father that my own sought to over throw for the injustice done to my family. The lords of the North, Vale and Riverlands put their faith in me as their Queen. They chose me, they will never choose you and I would never betray them by giving them over to someone they neither know nor chose."
The Dragon Queen looked like a ghost come to life as she set her jaw. " That's fair," she spat."Its also a fair point that I am the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself the Ruler of the Northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion.
Lyarra shrugged her shoulders, face set in stone "It would not be the first time. I was fighting in open rebellion before your dragons took their first breaths and have been doing so for years, what is a couple more?"
Lord Varys left his place next to Lady Olenna and whispered in his queen's ear. There was a moment of tense silence. she looked down at her feet, before looking back at Lyarra, "You must forgive my manners, you must be tired after your long journey. We will have baths drawn for you and people and supper sent to your rooms."
"Guide them to where they will be staying," she muttered in bastard Valyrian to the Unsullied who stepped forward to do what she asked, both still shaken by the display. "keep an eye on them especially her."
The Dragon Queen turned to leave but stopped. "I would advise that the next time you address me, Lady Snow, that you do so carefully, I'm not normally forgiving of this who disrespect me."
"Or what?" Lyarra prompted ignoring Lady Catelyn's scolding glare. "You'll burn me?"
Tormund chuckled, "You can try Dragon Queen."
Daenerys cocked her head but ignored him completely and headed back up the steps.
Tyrion looked at Lyarra in disappointment as the Queen's party filtered out.
"My Lord Tyrion," Lyarra stopped him, "Do tell her that Emeraxys is perfectly safe in the North."
Lyarra smiled knowingly before turning her escorts, "There is no need to keep an eye on me, I am a better guest than I let on, guide us, please."
"Lord Tyrion," Lady Catelyn stopped him again, "If you may send the Maester to our chambers later, that would be very much appreciated."
"You shouldn't have lost your temper," Her good mother scolded her sharply, helping unlace the back of Lyarra's gown.
"I am aware, but she grated on my nerves."
"Still, she could order to have us slaughtered, then what?" Catelyn scolded, helping her stepped out of the dress ushering her to the bath. Lyarra grumped and stripped of her shift, sinking into to the scalding hot water.
"I promise to keep my temper in check next time I see her," she promised groaning at the feeling of her muscles unwinding.
"I mean it Lyarra," Her good mother insisted, "That babe is a Stark, if Robb misses this one he will be devastated."
"It was not my fault that he left--!"
"I am not saying it is, sweet girl," Lady Catelyn soothed, "I know it was not your fault, Robb will never forgive himself for it, please don't let this be another item on the long list the two of you need to apologize for."
Lyarra sighed and sunk down into her tub, submerging herself in the boiling water.
Lyarra laid in bed surrounded by Grey Wind and Ghost, her wolf had fallen asleep letting Lyarra use her large body as a pillow. Grey Wind nudged her stomach with a low whine, looking at her in worry. She ran a hand through his fur, knowing it wasn't just him. "I will be home before they come," she whispered. "I swear it."
Grey Wind whined again and laid his head on her stomach.
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