Young Lya Stark knelt down in the forest, her fingertip brushing against the blue rose. A smile graced her face as the soft petals rub against the tip of her pointer finger. The snow atop it melting from the touch. She recalls the stories of her aunt who she is named for. The stories of a rebellions started by a single rose. Well not a single rose. A crown of roses. The Queen of Love and Beauty.
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"Lya!" A voice calls, forcing Lya to stand from her kneeling position. A tall man comes next to the girl of four, making her seem smaller than she already was. Tall for her young age but still not reaching her brothers heights. "Lya," The voice scolds softly as the cloaked man comes to his knees before the northern child. "What did I tell you about running off like that. You have your mothered worried sick."
Ned Stark puts his gloved hand to his beloved child's cheek, a smile coming to his lips despite his efforts to scold her. She was his only daughter. The Maester told him that he would soon be blessed with another by the way his lady wife was carrying. He hoped this one was as easy as Lya.
"Robb told me that if I run off I'm going to be taken by wildings and fed to direwolves." The girl confided in her father with a scrunched nose. "But he's stupid. You told me the wildlings have never crossed the wall and that direwolves have never been neither!" The man smiled at the fire his girl had.
"Your brother may be wrong about that but he is right about running off. Your mother is going to have another baby soon. You will have a little sister or brother. No need to stress her even more." The girl nodded, looking to the snowy ground.
"Yes father." She says dutifully. He brushes back the curly hair atop her head and kisses it softly.
"You're just like my Lyanna." He speaks with pride but even Lya could see the pain behind it along with something else. He stands, picking up the young girl and turning back towards home. She grips his fur coat with small hands, laying her head on his shoulder as he brought her home to Winterfell.
♤
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Lya laughed aloud as she chased her half brother with a wooden sparring sword. Jon jumped over logs, his legs much longer than his sisters. But she was quicker. She caught up to him, threatening to hit his ankles. At this he skidded to a stop, not wanted to have bruises for a fortnight on his poor ankles.
"You don't play fair!" He announced as she tapped his shoulder.
"I play right." She sneers. "You're it." She drops the sword, running out of the woods and into the keep. Jon is on her tail, leaving behind the sword they both knew Ser Rodrick would be looking for. But that was far behind them now, figuratively and literally. They ran through the courtyard, dodging horses and carriages as they went past. They reached the great hall where a meeting was being kept.
The two muddy children stopped outside the door, looking between themselves. "Do you think Robb is done now? This game is more fun with three." Lya whined, leaning against the large door. Jon shrugged, his curly hair barely shorter than his sisters.
"Maybe Sansa will play." Jon suggested. Lya huffed, crossing her arms angrily.
"She just wants to play with dolls. She's a baby. And mother said Arya can't play with us until she's older. She just turned four! Robb and I were in the woods all the time then." Jon's face suddenly lit up.
"Let's go to the God's Woods! I know the perfect branches to climb." He suggests. This brings Lya to attention, standing up straight, she gives him a smirk.
"Race you there?" Jon doesn't answer, taking off in the familiar path of the God's Wood. Lya yells to him about unfairness but he keeps running. Leading them to the grand Weirwood Tree. It's face staring ever watchful. They aren't alone though, another boy about 9 is praying to the many gods that live in these woods.
"Jasper!" Lya recognizes the orphan boy immediately. His parents were both farmers from a nearby farm. In the last winter, the crops had froze. Dooming the family. The Stark men had found him alone with parents long dead. He was taken in by the Poole family without question. Now a close friend to the three 10 year old Starks. Or two Starks and a Snow.
"What are you guys doing out here?" He asks, seemingly uncomfortable. The God's Wood was a place for peace and prayer, not rambunctious children.
"We've come to climb. Join us!" Jon suggests, finding his footing on one of the tall trees surrounding the Weirwood. Lya is up the tree quicker than Jasper can counter. The boy reluctantly follows his friends. They all find their way atop the castle walls. Walking ever carefully as they made their way towards the Broken Tower.
"Maybe we should go back. The walls are slippery from the rain." Jasper says uneasily. He sticks close to Jon who is directly behind Lya. She looks out upon Winterfell. The bustling streets and smell of rain gives her a pristine calm.
"Don't be a pansy." She speaks in passing, gripping the side of the wall. She searches for a footing, kicking at the stone wall. Jon laughs at her struggle, pushing her out of the way and expertly climbing up the side of the tower. She follows his path, using the same footings as he did with a little spite at the fact she didn't find them. They look back to see that Jasper had not made a move to follow.
"Come on Jas!" Jon calls as he makes his way across the Broken Tower towards the other wall beside it that was thick enough to walk on. He makes it first. Followed by a confident Lya. They both look back at their younger friend. He doesn't wait for them to call him another name, gripping the wet stone and making his way slowly and carefully towards them. They watch with an impatient stare that forces him to speed up.
He reaches his way to the other side of the tower, feeling his hands beginning to slip. He reaches out a hand and Lya goes to pull him to the wall. But in the last second as Lya's hand grips Jaspers, the younger boy loses his footing. Too distracted by the iron grip he held on Lya's hand. The boy gasps, pulling Lya down to her knees as she tries to pull him up. Jon grips Lya around her stomach wordlessly, trying to keep her on the wall. But she was slipping on the wetness and saw two options before her.
Be pulled down by Jasper's weight and carry the three of them to their demise, or save Jon and herself. She looked down at the stony floor bellow. None of them thought to scream. All their throats clogged with fear. She chooses Jon. Lya lets go.
