Sometimes it was little Arya who coaxed her Aunt out of some old melancholy. Aunt Lyanna could use a sword as well as a needle. It wouldn't be long till Sansa was following up behind, prattling and ladylike tattling about stitchwork and lessons that Arya had skipped.
The direction would change, Lyanna would take their hands in hers and move about her home to where she knew a warm hearth would be as the sun set and somehow the noise of their voices would summon Bran who would ask after old stories that Old Nan simply wouldn't tell anymore.
Lyanna found them hard to tell, too. Brandon had loved them and Brandon was gone.
So the girls sat with their needles and Bran took residence on the floor. Lyanna was sure Robb would find his way in, too, before they all would be appropriately scattered to more appropriate evening activities.
" Garth the Green walked the land long before your stranger." Lyanna began as she turned back to Sansa, who already was asking questions about old heroes. "He would not be remembered as a hero if he hadn't had the help of Jon Who Climbs The Wall. He trapped Death in a sack for dear Garth." Lyanna continued knowingly, as Bran asked how that was possible. It was Robb who shushed him, having found his way in, stating that their Aunt would tell them if only he listened.
" But back then the Gods had eyes that could see farther than their roots could stretch. Some, I've heard tell, say they even saw into the sea." Lyanna bent to help Arya untangle her thread from her work. and carefully took the freed needle back out of its resting place as she continued to sew grey stitches into her work.
"In those days, the Gods eyes saw many things, even strange and wonderous things, Death among them. You see, Death had no eyes, but thousands of hands. On his back sat the moon and his armor was made of stars. Death is a curious being, because he cannot see. Death's touch is very cold. Colder than the longest night."
"Garth the Green had one wife and had two sons. They were very happy, you see, for they were blessed to live in the godswood and were friends of the children. To befriend the children is a very lucky thing. And this particular godswood was a very sacred place. It was always winter's solstice, and it was always bright noon sun shining through the trees."
Lyanna paused in her work to remind Arya to keep working on hers ( she wouldn't want her septa after her, now would she --or worse-- old Nan) before looking up to see another at her door,
"Come in, Jon, we've only just started." She was always glad to see her boy, even if she could never openly admit that he was hers.
