The Little Wolf

Chief

Crossroads Inn, Along the Kingsroad

Lyra could hear her father's voice long before he entered the room, worrying about where his two youngest daughter's were.

Lyra and Arya had been brought before the King, the Queen and Prince Joffrey, as well as a room packed full of guards and company. Lyra was trembling, a mixture of the pain in her hands and the fear of being discovered as an Outsider. Her father barged into the room, and parted the sea of people to get to his daughters. He brushed Arya's face and pulled Lyra in close, asking tenderly, "Are you alright, are you hurt?". Arya nodded toward Lyra, and Ned took one look at his daughter's hands and immediately grew angry, demanding why he wasn't told earlier, why his children were dragged in front of the King, and why his daughter's wounds hadn't been tended to.

"We did not mean to scare them" King Robert sighed. 

From there, the conversation grew more intimidating. Joffrey, as Lyra would expect from him, lied about the ordeal, claiming that the girls and their sweet, innocent friend, Mycah, had surrounded him with sticks and beaten him, before letting their Direwolf on him. Arya grew angry, but Lyra couldn't deny her sense of relief, and she felt it in her father beside her-he hadn't mentioned Lyra being an Outsider, so perhaps he hadn't found out. 

When the Queen said, "Joffrey will bare these scars for the rest of his life", Ned scowled and said, "And what of my daughter's scars?"

"You should teach her better", Cersei replied rudely.

This confused Lyra. Her father had always told her to do the right thing, and that family comes first. All she thought she did was protect her sister and friend from Joffrey's anger and cruelty. She was tempted to yell something to her, much like Arya, but held her tongue, grateful her big secret hadn't been discovered, and Lev hadn't come into the argument.

They called upon Sansa to enter the room, and say what she saw. Sansa had been there and she saw the whole thing, the cruelty of the Prince's actions, and the defensiveness of her sisters. Lyra thought Sansa would tell the truth, but she was wrong.

"I don't know" Sansa stated, "It all happened too fast".

"LIAR!" Arya screamed, grabbing her sister's hair, prompting Joffrey to grin smugly and Cersei to say, "She's as wild as that animal of hers".

That was when Lyra relented, and knew that whatever Arya argued, or Ned or Sansa said, the Prince's lies would always take precedence over all other words and claims, even if they were truthful. Lyra held in her anger, and tuned out deciding hearing any more lies were unbearable. One day, this sour boy was going to be a king, her king, and the thought made her sick. She was in pain, she was tired, she just wanted to go home, to run to the Godswood and be on her own again. Somewhere secluded, where she could run and play and be herself, and not be haunted by fears of her own execution and being found out to be something she was born as. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and fear building up in her chest. 

She tuned back in to hear a soldier say that, though they looked, they couldn't find the Direwolf. Nymeria had obviously escaped, which made Arya breathe out a sigh of relief next to her.

"We have two other wolves" Cersei broke the silence, an evil grin creeping across her face.

And that was when Lyra knew; her Direwolf's fate was sealed. She'd been so worried about Lev being discovered, or Nymeria being captured, she'd naively believed Chief, her own wolf companion, would be deemed innocent and he would be safe.

Lyra joined in with Sansa pleading for her Direwolf, begging for Chief to be spared. 

"Please have mercy!" the little girl cried, just before a person emerged from the shadows, having previously been loitering, overhearing, and waiting to sink his fangs in.

Lyra immediately recognised the shadow as Ser Deacon. He was a colossal man, towering over all in the room and double their sizes in muscle. He was ivory toned, and Lyra could have sworn his teeth were fangs. His bald head glistened with sweat, and he always had a macabre grin, which made his presence menacing. His harrowing eyes bored into Lyra, as he growled, "There is no such thing as mercy".

Scared, she stared at the giant in fright for a moment, before turning to her father and the King to continue pleading for Chief's life. And, once more, Ser Deacon, wearing a mask of malevolence, snarled again, "There is no such thing as mercy".

Lyra silently disagreed, mercy did exist. Her brother's and sister's rescued their Direwolves; that showed mercy. Once their was a stray cat named Neva around Winterfell, and though Lyra wasn't allowed to keep it, Eddard permitted Lyra to leave it food. That was mercy. Everything was going so wrong, everything was so unfair, everything was so unjust, but mercy existed. Mercy had to exist, or else the world would be nothing but darkness.

Thankfully, but rather shockingly, it seemed the King had an ounce of mercy in him. "There is no need to kill both. Only one was at fault, only one needs to pay the price", his gruff voice rumbled. 

And that was that, the King had spoken, and her father was ordered to kill one of his daughter's Direwolves. Sansa and Lyra were still sobbing, still pleading, still begging. Ned ordered the captain of Winterfell's guards, Jory, to take the girls to their chambers, and to find someone to stitch up Lyra's hands. 

It was all too overwhelming. The pain of her wounded hands, the fear of being discovered as an Outsider, the grief of losing her beloved Direwolf. She was faint, and overwhelmed, and desperately wishing to go back home where she felt safe, where she felt loved. Jory scooped her up in his arms, and kindly whispered something along the lines of, "Hang on, little Lady, we'll get you fixed up". 

Just as exhaustion engulfed her, her last thoughts flicked rapidly to her innocent friend, and the day she got him. He was the biggest of the puppies, and ironically Lyra was the smallest of all the children. Chief was named from a story Jon would frequently tell her, regarding a brave Knight by the same name. The character was both strong, but sensitive, and, as Jon described him, like a fierce, unstoppable force in battle. And Lyra wished that for her companion.

Her final thought was a prayer to the Old Gods and the New that he would be safe.

And then, as all brave Knights eventually do, she surrendered to the darkness.

***

Hello, I hope you are enjoying the story! As this is my first story, I would greatly appreciate your comments and advice. I know where I want this story to go, but I need to know if YOU, the readers, are enjoying- so please, feel free to comment advice. Thank you in advance, it truly does mean a lot!