Little Dark Age | Daemon Targaryen

Little Dark Age

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"BREATHING IN THE DARK, LYING ON ITS SIDE / THE RUINES OF THE DAY PAINTED WITH A SCAR."
—mgmt
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It was highly unusual for Walder Frey to be so welcoming. It seemed quite queer that the old man had allowed her uncle to take her brother's place in the proposed marriage. So there she sat next to her mother as they celebrated her uncle's marriage to a Frey daughter. Laughter filled the air as bread was shared and musicians played their instruments. Unlike her mother and brother, she did not eat; she simply sat and observed. An uneasy feeling gnawed at her stomach, telling her that something was wrong.

"Lyanna, my dear, why aren't you eating?" Her mother, Catelyn Stark, seemed entirely unconcerned.

"Mother, don't you feel that something is wrong?" she whispered cautiously, ensuring no one else heard her.

Before her mother could respond, Lyanna's attention was drawn to the hall's entrance, where the doors were being shut. Why?

"Mother?" Lyanna's worry was detectable.

"Do not fret, Lyanna," her mother muttered softly.

With a nod, Lyanna returned her focus to her meal as the band began playing a new song, "The Rains of Castamere." The choice of song unsettled her. Why play such a song at a ceremony of new beginnings?

"Your Grace," Walder Frey addressed her younger brother, motioning for him to approach.

"I fear I've been neglectful in my duties," Walder began, rising to his feet, his gaze predatory. "I've provided food, wine, and music, but I've yet to offer you the hospitality you deserve." He chuckled lightly.

"My king has married—" Lyanna glanced from Walder Frey to her mother, who began to discreetly reach for Roose Bolton's sleeve. As her mother revealed the chainmail beneath Bolton's sleeve, Lyanna's heart sank.

Before Caitlyn could react to her discovery, Lyanna's own voice pierced the air. "Robb, look out!"

Violence erupted throughout the hall as loyal supporters of the North were mercilessly slaughtered. Men who had pledged their lives to Robb Stark now lay dead, their throats slit and arrows piercing their chests, crimson red blood flowing out of them and seeping onto the wooden floors.

In the storm of violence, honor and duty seemed lost, consumed by the flames of treachery. Despair replaced fellowship, and the echoes of allegiance were drowned by the screams of the fallen and wounded.

Despite Lyanna's attempts to aid her family, she found herself defenseless, regretting the absence of her sword. She crouched under a table, clutching only a dinner knife and her will to live. As her breath grew shallow, a hand gripped her arm. With a yelp, she lashed out, only to find soldiers who wore the seal of the flayed men restraining her.

"Let go of me, you monsters!" she screamed, struggling against their hold.

"Now, now, Lady Lyanna, don't fret. Your time will come soon," Walder Frey smirked, relishing her terror. Everyone knew of the great Lyanna Stark and her ability to never show emotion on the battle field,  so it was quite the excitement for Walder Frey to see her fear come to life.

Her mother was nowhere to be seen, but her brother knelt nearby, cradling the lifeless body of his wife.

"Lord Walder," her mother emerged from hiding, gripping Walder Frey's newest wife tightly. "Enough," she declared, a knife pressed against the woman's throat. "Let it end. These are my children, my eldest daughter and son. Release them, and we will forget this betrayal. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."