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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【A GAME】
APPARENTLY THE QUEEN KNEW A LOT ABOUT LYARRA'S PREDICAMENT, that being said, Lyarra was currently ignoring everything she'd said.
The sun was too bright for the day to not be enjoyed, even if Lyarra's stomach was begging her to not climb along a log, and Roslin was right at Lyarra's side on the ground, telling Lyarra to hop down and go inside to relax―Lyarra scoffed, really Roslin should consider herself lucky, at least she wasn't trying to climb a tree.
However, in truth, Lyarra's back was aching, and she was certain she was going to stain her gown and embarrass herself in some way before the King's party, but she wanted to show that she could be just as she was, even if she felt like she was a bloody waterfall.
"It ebbs and flows." She recalled Roslin saying as she helped Lyarra change the sheets of the bed at the inn.
She remembered herself remarking, "You make it sound like girls become rivers." and in response, Roslin had just shrugged, and continued on with the work.
"The sun is smiling today," She said as she tried her best to balance on the log, her hands held out like the wings of a bird, "why do you think that is?"
"Maybe the moon let it out early?" Roslin suggested. Oh, poor Roslin, never the romantic mind, even so, Lyarra couldn't frown, not on such a glorious day―glorious except for the fact her insides felt like they were trying to tear her apart.
"I think it is smiling because the moon called it beautiful." Lyarra said as she stepped forward on the log―it was just the right size to stroll along―she could almost believe she was flying as the wind blew against her back. She reveled in the feeling―it reminded her of home, which, even if they weren't so far from it, she still missed it as one would mourn an unrequited love.
But to think of home was to think of misery, and suddenly the oh-so golden day had turned cloudy at the reminder that Bran still hadn't woken from his fall.
It seemed the day indeed, now called for a little sulking.
Lyarra's shoulders dropped, and her head hung low, and yet she continued walking along the log. Somewhere, a few feet away was Sansa with Lady and some others of the King's household, despite their closeness to the group, she didn't think any of them noticed Roslin and her.
"Suddenly you're a wilted flower," She heard Roslin say, her hand reaching out. Lyarra took it. "why is that?"
Lyarra didn't particularly know. There were so, so many reasons. Mostly to do with her family. What if Bran never wakes up? What if mother died from grief? What if father then died from grief? Her mind was all death and despair. Never had there been a greater lie than that day, that had begun seeming so gentle.
