The Little Wolf

The Light in Darkness

Edge of the Kingswood, Near to Felwood

As she closed her mind to conceal the Monster, Lyra did not only lock Lev out. She refused the access of memories. They were buried within her, deep and unbroken under the rubble of the destruction of her life.

One day, perhaps if the Monster left her mind and Lev freed her, she would be willing to open them up and relive them. Maybe the old Lyra Stark was still just a little girl searching for a way out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a flame of hope flickering that Lyra was still Lyra.

Nonetheless, she simply did not remember. She refused to remember the smiles, the laughter she had once known, the happy endings she believed in - they did nothing but make her sadder. Something she lost, something she longed for, but something she could not have. She would brace her little body and prepare herself for the darkness to pound on her frame once again.

Though, she did recall.

She recalled the man's face. It had once filled her mind as she fell asleep with a smile, it comforted her fears when she was locked in her cell, and now, the same face was staring back at her.

The memories were desperate to swarm to the surface. They beat on the cage doors of her mind, pleading to be let out, pleading to see the light of day, a chance to bathe in the sunlight and glory as they once had.

His hair. His posture. His sword. His little smirk that twitched when his dancing eyes landed upon her face.

The man, gripping the hilt of his sword, bent his knee and knelt by Lyra's side.

"At last, we are together again, my dear Knight", he spoke with a tear in his eye.

Lyra stared at him fiercely. The battle raged inside her; her Conscience urged the girl to trust him, to open her mind even just the slightest crack so the smallest burst of light could burst through, but Lyra silently objected. She had been blind enough to open her mind once before, in her innocence, and a terrible beast had crawled inside. She had lost all her trust, and it was not something to be easily earned back, or something to be taken lightly.

The man stared at her, and after seeing the dull, empty, lost ice colour of her eyes, his own lost their life, too. The girl he had once known had gone. Ser Lyra had gone - and Lyra could tell that he grieved silently. Still he remained crouched down. He placed his sword on the ground in front of her and bowed his head.

"Never will I hurt you, my dearest Knight. Never. For you are Ser Lyra, and I beg in time your mind heals and the wounds seep memories of me - your Ser Kaelo." He vowed all the while his voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking. He raised his head and looked Lyra in the eyes, while his own welled with tears.

"I'm sorry..." he gasped and fell forward, opening his arms for an embrace. Lyra, cautious as ever, flinched backward at the sudden movement toward her, and wrapped her hand tight around Wolf.

No sooner than Kaelo had appeared, Chief had as well. He, sly and smart, appeared behind the man and growled softly. Kaelo turned his back and held his empty hands up in front of Chief to prove he was not armed - his only sword he had surrendered to Lyra, and was on the floor at her feet.

Lev, pacing himself, flapped and landed by Chief's side and warbled a tune that halted his companion's protective rumbling. Chief's ears pricked and he whimpered slightly in hesitation before timidly reaching his head forward sniffing the man's hand. He leaped back and landed on his haunches, cocking his head in confusion. He, like Lyra, wanted to trust him, yet couldn't.

Lyra's Soul, however, a precocious being, much like his girl was, reminisced on the memories and welcomed them into his life. He remembered those days at King's Landing when all he had wished for was a little peak of happiness for his girl amidst her personal dejection. And Kaelo was that happiness. Maybe, he now thought to himself, Kaelo would help free her.

Kaelo turned around, grinned an effervescent grin at Lyra, before tilting his head back and laughing at the sun.

Lyra remembered this. In a fleeting moment, Lyra remembered Kaelo laughing at the sun like they were old friends sharing a joke. Then the darkness returned.

Kaelo stopped his laughter for a second before thanking Lyra for not stabbing him in the back while his back was turned. Lyra thought this was an odd thing to be gracious for, and maintained her fierce stare. She had not blinked. She had not taken her eyes off him.

Kaelo dropped to the floor, stretched his legs out and folded his arms behind his head. It looked like he was having the time of his life.

Lyra remembered this, too. She thought his Soul was childish. If he were an Outsider, he would be a Fennec, a small, childish fox. He was playful, vivacious and crafty. She remembered, but pushed it from her mind, still clutching Wolf.

Kaelo noticed the blade and his smile grew even wider, displaying every tooth and tonsil in his mouth. "Ah, Lassie", he chortled, "I remember Ser Lyra would always have Wolf on her."

Lyra looked at the man quizzically, and Kaelo pointed to his own blade laying at her feet.

Toothpick! Her mind screamed, in remembrance. She remembered the silly name that she admired.

Ser Kaelo and Toothpick, Ser Lyra and Wolf, her Conscience reminded her. The days she had spent dreaming. The days she had spent drawing the two knights fighting side by side. The days...all gone now, but engraved in her mind forever.

She was frozen. She wanted to say something, but all that came out was the stuttered phrase of "Vicious little monster".

"No, Lass." was all the man said at first, sadness returning to his voice and eyes. "All lies, my dear, lies fed to you by demons".

Lyra continued to stare. Memories of her torture stirring. Memories of the smells of food she longed for but couldn't reach. Memories of the axe handle beating her head. Memories of her screaming as her hair was pulled out of her scalp, or her body was burned by wax or iron.

The memories forced the darkness to grow darker. Each day, it seemed, they got worse.

Yet his smile flashed through her eyes like the sun broke through the gaps of clouds after a thunderstorm.

There was an odd light in the darkness Lyra had grown fond of in light's absence.

And that light was Ser Kaelo