Night fell not long after. The evacuation had been rushed even more, now planning to leave in five days. Lyla laid down in her bed, feeling scared. She stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the night to be over, as if by magic the sun would soon rise.
Her breaths slowed as her eyelids grew heavy. No. Lyla willed herself not to sleep. She had to be ready, ready if they came.
A few hours passed and Lyla was almost asleep. Maybe I can just sleep a little, she thought, sweet relief flooding her as she closed her eyes. It was blissful, really, like a heavy blanket had been draped over her, but in a comfortable way.
Lyla's eyes shot open, her heart pounding. A horn blared. Then another. Lyla listened with wide eyes and baited breath, until finally a third horn went off. She flung out of her bed, throwing on a little more clothing and racing out of the castle. Her chest heaved from the sudden movement as well as her hyperventilating.
It was dark. Very dark. A heavy fog was obstructing Lyla's view of the battlefield. Northmen, Unsullied, and Dothraki marched out of the gates, and Lyla slipped out with them. The Northmen stood behind the big wooden barricade with some catapults. The Unsullied stood in the front, spears facing outwards, and the Dothraki in the middle.
The soldiers looked at her confused, some even called out to her, but Lyla ignored them, running up to the Dothraki and Jorah, all who were mounted on steeds.
"What are you doing here, Lyla?" Jorah asked her as she ran up to him.
"Please don't die!" She cried out to the startled man.
"Lyla, I can't promise that." Jorah sighed, looking down at the girl sadly. "But I-" He was cut off by Grey Worm shouting Valyrian commands to his soldiers. The ground felt like it was shaking, and Lyla took a deep breath. She leapt into flight, hovering in the air as the fighting erupted at the front lines.
Flames built in her throat, and Lyla torched the undead like boiling water into an ant hill. The Unsullied stood strong, but were quickly overwhelmed. Grey Worm called for them to even lines with the Dothraki. Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot through her neck, and Lyla let out a screech. Hot liquid clashed on her skin against the cold air and she fell from the sky.
"Lyla!" A voice cried at her, but her ears were filled with whistling wind and the cries of dying men. "Lyla!"
Lyla shot up like an arrow. The screams died in her throat, and the scene disappeared from her eyes. Jorah held her sitting up by her shoulders, looking at her with concern.
"You were screaming. What's going on?" He asked her as tears welled in Lyla's eyes.
"I can't sleep, I keep having nightmares about them. There's so many, and now they're past the wall and..." Lyla buried her face in Jorah's side, crying. Jorah comforted the little girl, remembering the last time he had done so on their way to Meereen.
Jon entered his sister's room after hearing her crying. He paused in the doorway, surprised to see Jorah Mormont sitting with his sister, hugging and saying words of comfort to her.
At first, he felt protective of his sister, this stranger was doing what Lyla's family should be doing. Jon should be the one comforting her, not some man Jon didn't even know. And how could he trust a man who was so close to his sister? For all he knew, this man could be preying on Lyla.
Unsure of how to react, Jon left angrily.
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Little Dragon - Game of Thrones
FanfictionA story of Arya Stark's younger sister, a girl with a fierce forbidden power. CURRENTLY UNDERGOING A FULL REWRITE