"When winter comes, her flame will light the way."
Growing up in the North was something people did not take for granted; her family ruled the Icelands and the people that came with it. They trained the girls alongside of the boys, knowing the dange...
Prologue: Tell me a story Game of Thrones, Pre-Season 1
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"No man is worth your safety, not now, not ever."
— Erik Ember
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"Tell me a story, papa."
"What would you like to hear, little bird?"
"I want to hear about us...where our house came from."
"Thousands of years ago, they say House Ember was gifted with beautiful creatures to help guard the North against white walkers. They processed an ability to destroy any that came into it's path—"
"The phoenix!"
"— That's right, little bird. Our Ancestors were great people and they say that when the Targarayn's tried to burn them, they didn't die, instead the birds appeared from the ashes to serve them."
The little girl, only just passing her fifth name day, looked up with eyes full of wonder. Her red locks fell past her shoulders in waves, inherited from her mother and the only daughter to have them. Her brunette father looked down at her with eyes full of admiration.
"But if we make firebirds, why are we Northern?" The little girl questions with a titled head.
"The North is the first defence of whatever lies beyond the wall, Nyssa, always remember that. We are closest to the wall, just above Winterfell, and when the White Walkers came for the south, the Phoenix was said to have protected our people against them."
"What happened to the Phoenix?"
"Once a phoenix is bonded to an owner, they will only stay with them. People stopped bonding with the phoenixes. They disappeared like the dragons did, little bird," The father smiled, running a hand through his daughter's hair. "There is proof they existed in some form, we have ashes said to have come from them. We made them into precious stones. Like the one you're mother wears around her next."
The small child made wonder cooing sounds as her father placed her in her bed. The fur blankets, protecting her from the harsh of the north, were moved to cover her. Her father kissed her on the head before moving towards the door.
"Papa, are we still in danger from the white walkers?"
"No, Nyssa. We are always in danger, but not from White Walkers, from men."
"I'm not a man so I'm not dangerous."
"That doesn't mean you can't make yourself dangerous, little bird."
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