Fierce and Mighty

Sansa smiled at her words, it was small, but genuine. The Lady Lyanna would be a good ally to Jon, their men were strong, and their leader stronger. Not to mention that the Lady Lyanna was more honorable than the majority of men she had met. Tough, but fair in judgement and true to her word. 

Bright eyes scanned the courtyard for a moment before letting her gaze fall upon her once more. 

“Come, let us continue our walk, while the weather permits us.”

There where two wars to fight. Only one of which Sansa knew enough about. Cersei sat on the Iron Throne by grace of wildfire and a feeble claim. The Lannisters were all but gone now. Cersei, the Kingslayer, and Tyrion, believed to be a traitor and far away from Westeros made up the remains of the once great house. Cersei was ruthless, but shortsighted. She’d gotten her revenge, at least from what Littlefinger said, and he couldn’t be trusted, but she’d turned so many houses against her, stolen Margaery from the smallfolk and built a castle atop sand. She commanded her men through fear, and the North would have no trouble finding allies against her. 

Yet, the threat beyond the wall drew closer everyday, there was not a lot of time left and they certainly didn’t have the men to fight whatever it was that was coming for them. They needed alliances, they needed men and for that the Iron Throne needed to be taken by a competent ruler, one that could all stand behind, one willing to battle the oncoming storm. 

“I’ve asked Ser Davos and Tormund Giantsbane to council Jon as well, there are a few more I’ve considered, but for now, I’d like to keep the council..small.” her smile widened a bit at the words. 

She did not consider herself so wise, she was simply a woman who was honest, blunt, and did not believe in sugar coating. If that made her wise, so be it. Lyanna would send her men to fight for a cause they believed in, for a man with no true name, because it was right and the man was a true Stark, even without the name. 

She flashed a smile and nodded, steps quickening. “Not much longer.”

Too many wars. Too many armies to fight them and not enough men to fight either. Lyanna was aware that they would possibly lose, die, by either army, but she had to fight. It was her nature. She was a warrior in her own right, she did not back down.

Her face changed when she heard of bandits. “Let’s put your horse back with mine. Then we can go in and have something to drink while we wait for your men? I will open a window so we can hear them better.” Asta smiles bit. She knew bandits would have been ruthless with the woman if she would have stayed. “You’re men were smart when they told you to go. The bandits seemed to have became more ruthless in the past years.”

Asta barely heard the voice, but something brought her attention to it. Opening the door, she looks outside. Stepping out, she looks at the woman. “Are you ok?” The woman’s horse looked tired, so Asta walks down farther. “I have some water for your horse, and it looks like you could use shelter. I mean no harm though.” She could tell the woman was cautious and she didn’t want to frighten her more.

“Beauty is a curse of it’s own, my lady. It has brought me nothing but sorrow.” she said, a bitter chuckle leaving her lips. she had been an empty-headed little bird, a bird with nothing but her pretty songs. She sang her courtesies and had no strength of her own. She relied on other to come a save her, that was no way to live.

She was a bird no longer, her skin steel and the ice of her family running in her veins. She was a Stark, and the Starks were not weak. 

“Power is a heady thing, many believe it protects you, but it only makes you more vulnerable. Enemies clamor to take it from you. It’s why we need strong people to stand by our King. Jon is strong, he is smart and kind. He will be a just king, but he is only a man. One man against an army of enemies.” 

Sansa stopped, meeting the gaze of the Lady Lyanna. “A King needs to hear the council of those who think differently, those with experience, those who are loyal. You are all of those Lady Lyanna. You have ruled the Bear Islands since your mother and sisters fell in honor of my brother, their sacrifice will never be forgotten, but despite your losses, you aided us, honored the call. You speak harshly, but you speak true. Jon needs your council and you would do us a great honor to give it.”

Her voice faded and for a moment silence hung in the air, her pale eyes washing over her face, taking in every expression she could catch. “It is your choice my lady, I will not play games with my words, should you wish to return to Bear Island, we shall not take it as a slight. We are grateful for all you and your people have done already.”  

“I can imagine so, my lady. I—I am sorry that you have had so many trials.” And her trials made Lyanna thankful she had not been given in marriage to someone. She was a free woman, free to make her own decisions. Free to stay away from men, period.

“Power turns you into a target,” she agreed. “Nothing I would want to be. Though, supporting your brother I have put a target on my own back, have I not?” Not a pleasant thought to have, and it would keep her awake more often than not in the coming days she supposed. “More than one army. Many of them. This is an ugly business that will yet get uglier.”

Lyanna appreciated the frank stare and words of Sansa in that moment. Pretty speeches were all well and good for some, but Lyanna preferred honesty and bluntness. She nodded her head, the motion jerky. “We always will, my lady. The Starks have been good to us over the years, and we would never deny you or yours. If he will listen, I will aid him and give council when needed.”

“Yes, I remember. You were just a girl then.” Sansa replied thoughtfully. Just a girl and already so mature. Sansa remembered that, forceful and wise beyond her years. Sansa couldn’t look at Lyanna without thinking of Arya, and her namesake. Father always described her as willful, as strong and far wiser than anyone would have thought. The memory pained her. 

A small part of her rejoiced when Lyanna called her by her name. She was a Stark, always a Stark. Her name was always hers to choose, but they called her Lannister or Bolton to humiliate her, to degrade her name. 

No longer. 

“Yes, he will hate to rule, but no King should be happy to sit on a throne. The lives of thousands rest on a King’s shoulders, they must bear that weight and always be conscious of it. A king holds great power, but great responsibility.” the northern princess said thoughtfully.

“That is why, I’d like to ask you to join his council. You are wise, my lady. You have ruled Bear Island admirably and I believe that you would be a great asset to our King.” she said, pale eyes looking to the Lady in question. 

“You were very young then,” she said, glancing over at the other woman. “So young, and still, a pretty girl. I envied that back then.” Lyanna knew she was no great beauty. Then or now. She was plain, but she was strong. She would rather be strong than pretty.

“Anyone who is comfortable ruling ought not have the job.” Ruling her own people did not sit well with her either. “It is a terrible job, one that I am unsure why so many wanted it.” Too many had tried for it. Stannis, Renly, Joffrey, Balon, Robb. Now there were no kings left but Jon. Cersei reigned in the south. A queen across the sea as well. And a frozen thing above them. Not man nor woman. “He has the strength for it,” she agreed.

Jaime grinned at her honesty, finding it refreshing. The lot of attendants had fake smiles plastered on their simple faces. Ass kissing was running a muck. This one seemed as bored as he. “Perhaps you should take your leave,” he suggested, not bothering to actually look at her. “A tour, if you would entertain such an idea. I’m offering.” It was a way they could both escape. “Even if you have been bored through one before, a kingsguard could show you something more inticing, I suppose.”

Her side eye was mostly due to the fact that he, of all people, should stoop so low as to want to speak to, let alone spend any amount of time with, her. Lyanna not an ass kisser, nor was she a woman who was beautiful. So he had to have some ulterior motive, she thought. 

Though, she did want to jump at any opportunity to duck away. Perhaps find a quiet place to relax.

The Kingsroad was not safe anymore. Not for women. Not for anyone. Lyanna’s party had been accosted on the way south, trying to make their way to a market. There were rumors of a ship from across the Narrow Sea with much and more grain and other food that would be needed for winter.

Her knights had sent her horse fleeing when the bandits had come. Her last glimpse of them was them unsheathing their swords as a band outnumbering theirs crested a hill. Lyanna hated to leave them, but their shouts for her to go rang in her ear. Too many of her family was gone by now for them to risk her. So she had fled, hating herself for it.

“It would be a pleasure Lady Mormont” Sansa replied, head dipping in return, the crunch of leaves and twigs sounding from under her boots as she approached the Lady, gloved hands folded in front. 

The sounds of saws and hammers, the smell of lumber in the air filled Sansa with a sense of pride. She was the Lady of Winterfell, this was her home and all traces of the Ramsay and the Bolton invasion would be scrubbed clean. Her brother was King in the North and just as much as she, he wanted their home returned to its former glory. 

She owed Lady Lyanna Mormont a great debt for her words at the feast, for standing behind her brother and House Stark. 

“Lady Mormont, I’m afraid I owe you thanks. For your support of Jon.”

The keep was coming along, and quickly. Jon Snow, it seemed, was a man of action even outside of battle. Lyanna approved of that, of him. She would do much the same in his shoes, had her home been defiled by the Bolton and his bastard.

“It will soon be just as it was, as I remember it from visits here long ago.” She glanced at Sansa, seeing if there was any lingering evidence of her marriage. Sansa looked drawn. Tired. 

Hostage to the crown, Lyanna was a dark ghost, drifting the halls. She wore dark clothes while most wore bright colors even on the mundane days. Her expression was dour more often, a result of being here when she wanted to be on Bear Island. With her family. She missed them.

“Lady Stark,” Lyanna greeted, giving a quick incline of her head. The young woman was the sister of the new King in the North, and this was her home. Winterfell was being rebuilt even now as she walked the courtyard, the smell of fresh lumber in the air. 

A Lannister celebration was never dull. His father would have never approved of such. Cersei’s birthday. Food covered the tables; food and wine; neither he was going to touch. The minstrels were entertaining. Jaime was irritated by them. He spotted her in the crowd and became curious. Slowly moving through the sea of drunken fools, he made his way toward her.

“Enjoying the festivities?”

She did not fancy being at this celebration. Feasts were all well and good, but this sort of revelry was not something she enjoyed. Or perhaps, was just unused to it. The finery she’d been put into was not the most comfortable. The jewelry was not as fine as most here. She wore black, as she always did. Lyanna wanted to be back at her own keep. Instead, she was in a literal den of lions.

And here came one of them now.

Sansa had spent the night walking the halls of her home, remembering her childhood and becoming more familiar with it again after her captivity. She may have been in Winterfell for just over nine months, but she had been locked in that tiny room only to be brought out to be tortured. During her walk, she hadn’t expected to see anyone else up except maybe the occasional guard.

“Oh,” the redhead answered seeing the Lady of Bear Island. “I thought the same. Sleep seems to be a luxury I can’t afford anymore. Does sleep elude you as well, my lady?”

Unsure of the girl’s opinion of her, Sansa gave her a warm smile. At Bear Island, she had practically accused the woman of forgetting who she was after her marriages. It had stung, knowing how others saw her. Many didn’t actually see her carrying the Stark name, but rather the names of her late husbands’.

The Lady Sansa. Was she Bolton? Lannister? Lyanna Mormont did not know, she could only speculate. The girl was older than Sansa, and tonight she looked every ounce the woman. Lyanna herself young, too young, but she had seen many things. Too many. Her family had slowly disappeared. She was leader now. Same with Sansa. She had gone through much the same. 

Only, Lyanna had never been tortured for fun by a king then given to a dwarf, then a sadist, in marriage.

Thank the gods.

“It does. I’ve found myself far too anxious to be in bed. And, the quiet was welcome. I would not mind your company though, if you wish to give it.”

Lyanna wanted to like her. She truly did.