when winter comes - a game of thrones fanfic

chapter two

"Lyarra! Lyarra! Did you hear the news?" Arya shouts as she runs into the grand hall.

"What news?" Robb chimes in. He is sitting with Jon and Theon, heavily engaged in a game of cards.

"Jon Arryn has died, and now the King and Queen ride for Winterfell!" she exclaims. "Can you believe it! The entire royal family in our household. Think of all the knights we'll see. Oh! If the queen is coming, her twin brother, Jaime Lannister will be here as well. And the imp! We get to see the imp!"

Excitement washes over Arya to the point where she can barely control herself. Thank gods, or else she may see the troubling looks exchanged between Jon, Robb, and I. The King's arrival in Winterfell did not strike us as completely thrilling, as we are old enough to decipher the true meaning of this visit. We know that soon enough, Robert Baratheon will propose the position as Hand of the King to my father. We also know that his loyalty to his childhood best friend (and practically brother) will compel my father to accept the position. We understand that in a few days time, our father will depart from Winterfell and ride to King's Landing.

Theon understands these circumstances as well, and has no problem spoiling the excitement for my younger sister, but Jon interrupts him before he can get the chance.

"Arya, why don't you come with me and do inventory of the swords. Rumor has it that the blacksmith has manufactured some real beauties," Jon says, leading Arya out of the grand hall and towards the sparring pit. He turns to look at me on the way out, and I give him a smile of appreciation.

"Alright enough of this nonsense," Theon declares, tossing down his cards, "I'm going out."

"To the nearest brothel I expect," Robb pokes back at  his friend.

"Robb Stark! You should not suggest such accusations in front of your sister! The jealousy may overtake her," Theon jeers on the way out. I cannot help but laugh at his sarcasm, for it suppresses my urge to punch the douchebag.

"Do you think Father will actually end up taking the position?" I ask. The question is rhetorical, for I already know that he will. However, a part of me still hopes that he will reject the proffer. Robb is quick to snap me back into reality.

"You know that he will. I'm sure he'll take you and the girls to find matches, maybe even Bran to be tutored."

"If he attempts to take me to that pathetic excuse for a capital there will be kicking and screaming I assure you."

"Perhaps he won't then," Robb responds, a smile and slight chuckle resting on his lips. "Father has always said that you, Lyarra Stark, are a true Northerner." With this, Robb's face turns somber, and I caught sight of the worry dancing in his eyes.

"You are ready you know...to be Lord of Winterfell in father's stead," I reassure him.

"It would help, if you were here to guide me." His eyes meet mine, and I cannot help but sense a disappointment that he carries.

He knows the truth. He knows that I plan to leave Winterfell once the King and my father have departed. But how? I have never mentioned my plan to anyone. Yet he knows anyway.

"How..." I begin, as shock puts my mind on hold.

"One night, during one of your...nightmares. You were whispering in your sleep. So, Jon and I went in to make sure you were okay. You kept mumbling about needing to get out and something about finding answers."

"So Jon knows too!" I yell, outraged by my brothers' eavesdropping.

"He was concerned, Lyarra, we both were, are actually! But I don't understand why whatever is going on with you means you have to leave."

"You have no idea, Robb. I need to go!"

"Why!"

I can feel the energy circulating in my entire body. This power, this damned power, ruins through my veins. I am flustered and not in control of my actions. I need to stop, find a solace place in my head and regain control of myself. But I can't, the yearn for destruction is too great. Suddenly, a voice appears, the same voice from my dream.

"Let it go, Lyarra. This power, it is your destiny. It is our destiny, and you must release it."

"Stop." I say back to the voice. I fall to my knees and press my hands sharply against my ears. The voice grows louder and angrier.

"Lyarra. Release your power!"

The grand hall shakes, plates break, and benches are flung across the room. This is my doing, but I have no control over it. In the faint background of the madness, I hear Robb. He calls for me, for Jon, for my father, my mother. He cannot stop me now.

"LET GO LYARRA OF THE HOUSE STARK!" the voice booms one finally time. All I can do in retaliation is scream, a powerful scream to match the power I release. A sharp pain is exerted throughout my whole body and I release my power. From the ceiling, three chandeliers detach from their chain and fall to the ground. One of them nearly hits Robb, but his agility saves him, and he dives under a long, wooden table. The power echoes throughout the room, and then nothing. The voice is gone. The energy is gone. I am left alone with the result of my destructive nature.

I stare in disbelief at the mess that I made. My parents, Sir Rodrick, and Maester Luwin enter the grand hall. My mother gasps and watches in horror as I rise from my knees. She runs to me and traps me in a tight embrace. Robb slowly comes out from his place, and I see Jon enter. He keeps his distance from me, but more realistically, my mother. My father crouches down beside me as well, his right hand on my shoulder.

I am unable to comprehend what I have just done. The energy has always been there. When I was younger, there came points where lack of self-control allowed me to perform minimal damage. However, I was never capable of doing any real harm, of potentially killing a person, as I almost did Robb. The thought of his death at my hands makes me shudder, and I cannot being myself to look at him.

"Lyarra, are you alright. Ned, what...what should we. How can this be," my mother stammers in disbelief.

"Cat, this power, it's nothing new. She will learn to control it," my father responds, as collected as always.

"And if she cannot! We have underestimated her limits Ned! This power is the greatest the world has ever know. Why else would he have coveted it, coveted her." My parents converse in a sharp whisper, and I do not have the mental stability to understand what they speak of. In hopes of settling my mind, and easing my pain, I scan the room for a safe haven. But what I find instead, is no safe haven. Instead, it is the owner of the voice that has been poisoning my mind for years. In the distance, I see an older man with long, silver hair and violet eyes stare coldly into my soul. He wears fine, red robes and a crown of gold and blood-red rubies rests upon his head. His crooked face flashes me a smiles, and he disappears through the doorway. In a moment of utter impulse, I dart after the enigmatic man, through the doorway, and towards the woods.