Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 18

The dragons had come to Winterfell.

"Slow down," called Lyarra, holding Minisa's hand as she tried running after Rickon and Ned, who were following some of the other Northern boys to the towers, wishing to see the Dragon Queen's army approach Winterfell. She glanced down at her daughter, raising a brow, "That means you, too."

Minisa giggled, babbling something about running, which to Lyarra meant she was going to be just as much of a thrill-seeker as her uncles. "Can't really blame her," said Sansa, glancing around for Arya, who was nowhere to be found. She tightened her grip on the handles of Bran's wheelchair, letting him lead them into the courtyard. "Today is..." She breathed deeply, nostrils flaring, "an interesting day."

"The Northerners better keep an open mind like I told them to," said Lyarra. "Daenerys is cooperating with us and she is very kind. Trust me... you will like her if you give her a chance."

"As long as she is the way you claim she is, then it will be fine," said Sansa. "But if she so much as tries to make the North submit..."

"Don't worry," said Lyarra, staring ahead. "I will handle it if it comes to that."

She could hear the crunching of the snow in the distance once they reached the front gates, waiting for the first of the forces to march in. "Where is that girl?" Lyarra murmured to Minisa as she scooped her up. "Where is your Aunt Arya, hmm?"

"Nowhere," said Minisa seriously.

"Of course," said Lyarra. "Nobody is Nowhere. Hope somebody will make herself known to Jon when she feels the time is right. He'll be wanting to see her."

The line of Northerners extended out far down the path, creating a flank to greet Daenerys. Lyarra had implored that they smile or at least gazed at them welcomingly, but judging from the nearest faces, no one was thrilled. She was going to have her work cut out with her.

A horn blew, signaling that Daenerys and Jon had reached the beginning of the Northern line. Lyarra bounced side to side anxiously, Minisa enjoying the movement. Sansa was doing a similar thing, practically shaking Bran's wheelchair as she fought to keep a neutral expression.

A screech sounded overhead. "Look up, my sweet girl," said Lyarra, pointing up as Drogon became visible, swooping down over Winterfell ahead of the army. "Dragons."

Sansa's breath hitched, body turning to follow the movement of Drogon and the dragon that followed behind– only one. Jon's latest letter had been brief in mentioning that Viserion had been lost when they had gone beyond-the-Wall to fetch a wight. The Night King had managed to strike him down.

"They're beautiful," whispered Sansa, perhaps mostly to herself.

"Maybe she'll let you see them up close," said Lyarra with a smile.

A few short minutes later, the dragons circling overhead, the thump of a horse's hooves sounded right outside the gate, delivering in Jon on a black steed. Behind him rode Daenerys and Ser Jorah, both wrapped warmly.

Jon dismounted swiftly, staggering over to them and dipping down to kiss Bran's forehead. "Look at you," he marveled as he drew away. He sniffled, "You're a man."

"Almost," said Bran kindly.

Jon turned to greet Sansa, then Lyarra, ending with another kiss on the forehead for Minisa. "And you, the littlest wolf," he said, ruffling the short curls on her head. "I've missed you. Where's Arya?"

"Lurking somewhere," said Sansa.

"She'll turn up," said Lyarra as Minisa reached her little arms out at Jon. Once he'd picked her up, she buried her face in the furs he wore over his shoulders.