❝some days i am more wolf than woman, and i am still learning how to stop apologizing for my wild.❞ [nikita gill]
Lyanna Snow was born a bastard, alongside her twin brother Jon. The two grew up inseparable from each other and were very close, especi...
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JON SNOW WORRIED ABOUT A LOT OF THINGS. He worried about the white walkers and wights. He worried about what would become of the wildlings, especially now that Mance was dead. He worried about whether anyone would be able to work together long enough to get rid of the threat beyond the Wall. He worried about Sansa and Arya, Bran and Rickon― he wasn't even sure if they were all alive anymore. He worried about the Night's Watch, even more so now that they had voted him to be Lord Commander. He worried about a lot of things.
But lately, he was mostly worried about his twin.
Lyanna wasn't doing well. Not mentally. Sure, she functioned around people and kept her head on straight when she needed to. She always had a smile for him and supported him through everything. On the outside, Lyanna seemed perfectly fine. But Jon knew his sister. She never liked anyone to see her upset, she thought of it as showing weakness, and she thought it was her duty to be strong for everyone else. And so she puts up a front, acts as if nothing phases her and she's completely okay― but Jon knew better.
She was suffocating.
All she did anymore was keep herself busy. If Lyanna wasn't sneaking food to the room where the few wildlings were being kept, then she was sparring in the courtyard with Edd or Ollie. If she wasn't doing that, then she was with Jon and Sam. And at night, Lyanna would go outside, let Nova and Ghost out of their stalls and roam around with the two direwolves. She was hardly sleeping, and Jon knew it because he had woken up on more than one occasion and caught a glimpse of his sister out of his window.
He knew why she was afraid to sleep most nights. She was afraid the greensight would show her a vision, and she was afraid of what it would be. After what people were now calling the Red Wedding, Lyanna was different. Of course, Jon had expected her to be; she had fought in a war, survived many battles and became the soldier he'd always known she could be. But the Red Wedding changed her. Seeing Robb and even Catelyn slain right in front of her, and not being able to save them― it took a toll on her. Maybe she blamed herself for their deaths, for not being able to help them, for not having a vision that could have prevented it; maybe she blamed herself for being the one that survived instead of Robb. Maybe it was a mixture of all the aforementioned things.
Jon wouldn't know, because Lyanna wouldn't talk about it. He had attempted to ask her more about that night, about how it had happened, about how she had gotten away― something other than the very little that he already knew. "Talking about it might help," he had said to her. Because while Jon did want to know the events of what happened that night, he wanted even more so for his sister to heal.
Lyanna wasn't having it. She deflected his questions every time he brought it up, usually finding a reason to leave his presence and come up with something else to do that would keep her busy. It worried Jon, because he knew she was over-working herself. Lyanna wasn't coping with what happened― she was avoiding it altogether.
