When Lyarra Stark was born she was first known, not for her cries, but for her laughter. In the years following, she grew to have a heart as gentle as snow. She even found herself being kind towards the Greyjoy boy who never seemed to deserve her wa...
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【KNOWLEDGE, AND ALL IT ENTAILS】
"I'LL MISS THAT SHAGGY HAIR OF YOURS." Lyarra remarked as she approached her brother's side, some ways away from Bran's bedchamber. It was less painful to be away from him than to be sitting beside his unconscious body, and yet just as she was by Jon, she felt the deep hole of yearning to return to Bran begin to grow in her stomach.
Jon laughed, bitter as winter's first breath, "Shaggy?" he turned around on his heel, looking at Lyarra with a crooked grin. He reached a hand out, messing with her hair, "I'll show you shaggy!"
She let out the most unbecoming shriek of laughter as she smacked his hand away, "It takes poor Roslin four hours to do this, all on her own!"
Jon gasped, "Four hours?" he chuckled again, "I feel my point is proven. You need a haircut."
"Says you!" She exclaimed, ruffling his hair just as he had her's.
The two were both messes of laughter by the time they came away from each other's hair. The silence after all of the noise felt like melancholy at its finest. One moment they'd been children, the next, as they tore away from each other, they became ghosts.
"I will miss you," Lyarra said, not bothering to smooth her hair back into place. "I will, truly."
He nodded in acknowledgment, before opening his arms. She ran into them like they'd been her home this entire time, not some freezing, old-as-time-itself castle, but the warm embrace of someone who was as caring to her, as summer's sun was to the year's harvest.
"You must make sure Ghost is well taken care of, I could not fathom the beasts at the Wall―how they may treat him." She muttered into his shoulder, her eyes squeezed about as tight as she held him. She didn't want to let him go. Not yet. If he had to go, why did it have to be now?
He let go. Too early, her thoughts echoed. Too early.
"No one will harm Ghost. Not if I have anything to say about it." He assured her with a smile.
And yet, it didn't comfort her. They were going to places unknown to them―well, she had been to King's Landing when she was a small child during the Greyjoy Rebellion, but she didn't recall it. According to her mother, the south didn't agree with Lyarra, and she'd been sick the entire time.
"Jon, are you afraid?" She asked after what felt like far too long.
He was her older brother, she figured he had the better judgment. If he was afraid, she would be. If he wasn't, she would force herself to be brave for his sake.
Eventually, after sighing, he admitted, "I think I am as afraid as the Wall is high." She nodded along. At least she knew she wasn't alone.
"We're leaving all we know." She said quietly as she continued to nod. She gulped, "I think we have every right to be afraid."
