Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 19

The final preparations were underway.

Lyarra envisioned Jaime's face the rest of the day that she was training, sending arrow after arrow into the set targets. Even when she moved on to practicing with her plants, she envisioned the vines choking the life out of him, forcing him to the ground while he begged for mercy.

The plants responded to her better now, even with all the snow, but she worried she may not be able to do it as efficiently when the time came. What if the fear got to her, once she really saw the wights? She hadn't seen the one Jon took captive at all. A description could only do so much.

Arya told her that Gendry described them as 'death.' It didn't help Lyarra feel more confident in her abilities, but she supposed it was a way to think of what they were fighting against– dying. She didn't want to die, she didn't want her siblings to die, and she certainly didn't want her children to die.

She'd seen Daenerys speaking with Jon on the ramparts that afternoon, once they'd all seemingly cooled down from the morning's meeting. They'd still been together in the evening once Lyarra had gone to dine with her sisters in Sansa's room, the three of them in low spirits as they thought of what was soon to arrive.

"The crypts, then?" said Arya. "For those who cannot fight?"

"I would prefer to send them all to White Harbor," said Lyarra. "It could be mobilized swiftly. House Manderly is a friend– Esther Umber can arrange it for us, as I've discussed it with her before. If there is a breach of the walls of Winterfell, I don't wish for Minisa to be killed here. If they ride for White Harbor tomorrow, they'll hopefully arrive by the time the battle has begun or even ended. If they arrive to find a raven telling them it's over, they may remain a few days while we rebuild here then return. If they arrive and hear nothing from us, they can take a boat to Dragonstone where they'll be safe. The White Walkers and their army can't swim."

Sansa hesitated. "I'd be going with them. I'd have to leave Winterfell."

"You'd be in charge of taking them to safety," said Lyarra. "I fear too much what would happen if everyone who cannot wield a weapon is piled in the crypts. Not to mention it's a terrible place for a baby. Though, I suppose if you didn't wish to leave, I could place Esther Umber in charge. Her in-laws will open the gates if they see her lead in the group. I'd simply feel more comfortable knowing Rickon, Ned, and Minisa are far from this. If you'd like, you can remain in the crypts which whoever else from the main leadership that cannot fight. Lord Tyrion, I assume."

Arya gave Sansa a pointed look, as if to ask if she'd rather be in a crypt alone with Tyrion or be on a horse riding to White Harbor where the White Walkers wouldn't so much as breathe near her. "I must be here," said Sansa as bravely as she could. "If we emerge victorious, I have to be here to oversee the restorations."

"Very well," said Lyarra. "I'll have Anni pass a note to Daenerys and Jon about it and have Osha start telling people to prepare their things for White Harbor. I'll tell Esther myself."

Once the arrangements for the evacuation had been made, Lyarra prepared supplies for the children, rationing out for them the food they'd need before arriving at the seat of House Manderly. She gave Rickon, Ned, and Minisa each a firm hug and kiss on the head before they set out the following morning. As much as it hurt her, she felt more comfortable knowing that them and the elderly would have a chance to live even if they did not win this fight.

She was called to the great hall after their departure. She'd assumed it had something to do with those who had not gone to White Harbor, but had instead been pleasantly surprised to find a group of tall men in black cloaks, with familiar shaggy heads of hair and smelling of the salty sea.