A Dragon In Wolf's Clothing ~A Game of Thrones fan fiction~

Chapter Twenty Three: Second Man

"Lyanna!" she heard someone hiss, the door slamming shut. Her eyelids opened with a start. The baby which had once been asleep on her chest woke with a start and began to cry whilst the wolf at her feet began to pace in circles, howling.

"Sansa?" Lyanna squinted through her tired eyes, rubbing her sons back. Brandon may have been only two weeks old at that point but he cried more than all of her other siblings had put together. He had only just gotten to sleep when Sansa's arrival woke them both up. However, the fearful, timid look on the smaller Stark girl's face made Lyanna shoot up, despite the fact she hadn't slept properly for half a month.

"Lyanna, people are fighting in the throne room," she breathed out, sounding scared. "I heard swords and men dying and the septa told me to come here, that you'd protect me. What's going on?"

Lyanna could only guess at the source of the fighting; The King must have died. Her father must have tried to convince Joffrey to step down from the throne. Lord Stark had most likely tried to take Cersei and her children into custody. The Queen wouldn't be happy about that.

Wait. if the King was dead, that meant Joffrey was the King now. Which meant that Lyanna was Queen. The thought which would have once made her laugh until she cried out of disbelief had come true.

"Sansa, I need to go and see what's happening," Lyanna said as gently as possible, kissing her son's head before handing him over to her sister. "When I leave, I want you to lock the door, barricade it if you must. I'll leave my dagger if it will make you feel safe,"

"No, you can't leave me!" she cried, her noise only encouraging Brandon's cries. "I don't know how to fight, please, stay with me!"

Lyanna rolled her eyes, despite the situation. "See why I ditched sewing lessons for sword training? I'll be back in five minutes, I swear on Brandon's life I will. Winter will protect you,"

Sansa went to protest but Lyanna merely hugged her tightly, trying to make her feel safe. She went over to the bed and knelt to fish out Joffrey's wedding sword from where she had hidden it, strapping it to her belt before pulling a dark cloak around her so no one could see the weapon.

"Please come back," Sansa muttered quietly.

"Five minutes," Lyanna shot her a reassuring smile. She turned away from her sister, opening the door and slamming it shut behind her. She waited momentarily outside of the door, her ear pressed against the thick wood to listen out for the noise of Sansa locking the door. Sighing with relief when she heard the click, Lyanna broke off at a quiet run down the hallway, the skirt of her long white dress flapping around her ankles.

As she ran around a corner, she felt herself stumble into someone. Backing away quickly, she mumbled apologies, before feeling a gentle and tough her shoulder. She looked up, realising it was Cayn, a member of her father's guard. He was only two years older than Lyanna and Jon, but he was a much better fighter than the pair of them put together. After Jory, she knew Cayn the best. Back when she was thirteen, Cayn joined the guard. He attempted to try and teach her how to fight, until Lady Catelyn caught them together and ordered him to guard the other parts of the keep, the parts furthest from Lyanna. They'd hardly seen each other since, but the bond had remained as she shot him a grin.

"Lya, you shouldn't be out here, it's not safe," he began, putting both hands on her shoulders protectively.

"I don't care, I need to find my father, I need to help him!" She protested, pulling out her sword when she heard heavy footsteps.

"The only way you can help him now is if you go back to your room and look after your sisters," Cayn shook his head.

"Sansa is safe," she muttered. "Where's Arya?"

"I haven't seen her all day, Lee, and your father is in enough danger without you running in the throne room," Lyanna immediately began to worry for her youngest sister, but came to her senses when she saw two Lannister guards come around the corner.

"She's there!" One of the shouted, pointing at her.

"The king wants you, bastard!" the other shouted. Cayn swore under his breath whilst Lyanna merely laughed.

"I'm legitimised, and married to your so called king," she pointed out. "I'm not going anywhere. If the King wants me, he can find me himself or you can take my corpse to him. Neither is going to happen."

 One of them, clearly not caring if the King took his head if he hurt her, ran at her, swinging his sword. She blocked his blade with her own, cursing when she realised she hadn't trained for almost three months. The Lannister moved to strike at her again as the other targeted Cayn, this time aiming for her head, but she ducked, swinging her sword as she went down. She caught his knees and he screamed, falling to the floor. She had mutilated his legs, leaving him with just two stumps where his knees used to start. As he flailed on the ground, she rammed her bloodied sword into his neck. He coughed up blood, twitching slightly as he choked, but soon fell still.

That was her second man.

Not spring any thought to the dead Lannister, Lyanna turned her attention to the other Lannister, who was besting Cayn in their duel. Cayn's silver armour was stained red, where his shallowly-cut chest had bled out. Despite that and the black eye he now sported, he was grinning, his confidence in himself still showing. Lyanna ran over to where the fight was, jumping behind the distracted Lannister. She drover her sword in between hi breastplate and his shoulder armour, a wound which made him stumble slightly, giving Cayn the chance to cut his head off in one, clean blow.

Gasping for breath, Lyanna keeled over, fighting the stich which creased across her stomach. Not bad for her first real fight, she thought, before turning her attention the hurt man before her.

"You alright, Cayn?" she asked as he winced in pain.

"Fine, don't you worry about me, Lee," he waved her concern off, strapping his sword back onto his belt. Lyanna wiped her blade clean on her cloak, but she kept the blade in her hand.

"I do need to worry about you, because you're going to take me to the throne room,"

"He might not, but I will," a harsh voice said behind her. Spinning around, she saw the Hound, his sword drawn. The sight of the blood stains on his steel made her feel sick; he'd killed some of her father's men, her friends.

"Over my dead body," Cayn hissed, clashing his sword against the Hound's, who gave off a twisted smirk.

"That can be arranged," he spat at the younger man, before bringing his great sword down on him. It cut through his leather armour, from his shoulder to his hip, a deep wound which began to bleed out immediately. Lyanna screamed, falling onto her knees as Cayn collapsed.

"Cayn!" she cried, kneeling by her dying friend. She held his head in her lap, her vision already clouded with tears. "No, no, please don't die!"

It didn't matter that she was begging, he was dead anyway, just like the rest of her northern friends and the hope of going home to Winterfell was dead with them.

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