#dragonsblccd

[ladywxlf]

@dragonsblccd​ sc.

“If you’re going to be terrible at TAILING me, might as well hurry and try to keep up?” She wasn’t as rotten in the way that she treated those in her family’s employ, but she was OLD ENOUGH to go to the bloody store without having to be chaperoned.

[roseofwinterfell]

“My Lady! My Lady!” One of the youngest Septas ran toward Lyanna, as she strolled through the beautiful gardens of the Sept of Sunspear. A Northern Lady protected by the New Gods; Gods she did not worship, but they protected her nonetheless. After her near death at the Tower of Joy, she had been brought to the holy place to live out her days safe from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Safe from Robert. Safe from House Lannister, who had no qualms about killing women and children. And most importantly, to keep her son safe. But now Robert was dead and so was her brother Ned and so were so many thousands of innocents. Sadness welled deep in her heart for those she did not know and for the loss of her dearest brother. A brother who had taken on the pledge she had thrust on him, as she bled nearly to death. Promise me, Ned. Protect our Prince. The second thought left unsaid. “Yes, Septa?” Her voice was even, never betraying the war she felt inside.

“A raven just arrived with this. It is urgent, My Lady.” The Septa ran off to attend to the rest of her duties, leaving Lyanna alone with her thoughts yet again. She quickly broke the seal of the Citadel. The Maester she had befriended knew naught of her real lineage; he merely thought that she was the daughter of a minor Northern lord married to a minor Dornish lord, who prayed for information about home. He was quick to provide her with any information about Jon Snow, the King in the North. Ned had kept his promise to protect him, but it was now time for Jon to claim his birthright. Her son was a king.

To the rest of the world, she had been long since dead. A sad memory that had stained both hers and her beloved’s names. She was the girl that people felt sorrow for, whenever her name was mentioned. Her story was a tragedy, rather than the triumph that had led to the Prince that was Promised. In a whirl of skirts, Lyanna rushed back into the sept. She needed a ship that would carry her to White Harbor, where she’d ride to Winterfell. The young Septa that brought her the message offered to accompany her and act as a witness to her identity.

She’d lost count of the days she’d spent aboard the Shining Dame, a ship carrying Dornish goods from Sunspear to the North. It was a miracle that the voyage went without issue. While they’d run into a bit of treacherous weather, brought forth by winter’s arrival, the captain brought the ship to port safely. She had boarded the ship in skirts and disembarked looking like the true northern lady she was. Her hair was braided down her back and she wore trousers, which were far more practical attire to make the long ride to her ancestral home. The horses her allies had acquired for her and her companion were waiting as promised and she set off without further delay. If the gossip in White Harbor was true, her son was reigning at Winterfell.

As they entered the walls of the old granite strong hold, she dismounted the horse gracefully. Lyanna let the stable hand take the reigns. A guard quickly followed, demanding to know what business she had at Winterfell. She held her head high and let her voice echo through the castle’s yards, “My name is Lyanna of House Stark and I wish for an audience with the King in the North.”

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