winterfell, the north
— SOMEHOW, AS THE SUN ROSE, NYMERIA FOUND THE WILLPOWER TO MOVE AGAIN. In the main courtyard, there were healer's tents being quickly put up, supplies brought out from safe stores they'd kept in chambers nearby, so that on the off chance that anyone survived, they could begin taking care of the wounded as quickly as possible. Her head felt fuzzy as her feet carried her, searching every tent for a familiar face.
Then, finally, she spotted the form of a large bear, a few pieces of armour missing, but Wren was all intact. And leaning against her side was a young, dark-haired girl wiping blood from her face. "Lyanna." She breathed, incredibly relieved as she made her way quickly over to the girl. "Are you alright??"
"Not really." She huffed. "Giant cracked a couple of my ribs, I think."
Nymeria's brows shot up. "Giant??"
"Me and Wren got him."
She huffed a small, impressed breath. "You should probably let them take care of you." she said softly.
Lyanna shook her head. "Later. They have worse to deal with right now." she nodded at the closest tent, and Nymeria sucked in a breath when she spotted a familiar face inside.
"Edd." She breathed.
He stood from where a hearer had just finished wrapping gauze over one of his eyes as she rushed forward, pulling one another into a tight hug. "You made it." He said, sounding as terrified as he did relieved.
"Are you alright??"
"Wight tried to blind me. Lucky thing I've got an extra eye for the occasion. Tell me you got that horned ice fucker."
She nodded. "I got him." She assured, her voice rasping slightly with emotion.
"Hey." He pulled her into another hug and she held on tight, letting the relief sink in knowing he was alright. "Are you alright?" He asked as he withdrew.
She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. It felt selfish to say no when people were dead and crippled and she was in one piece... but she knew yes wasn't right either. She'd probably never been further from okay. "Have you seen anyone?" She asked instead. "Have you seen Jon??"
Edd began shaking his head, expression grave before his gaze landed on something behind her.
She turned, and there he was, ash-smudged with blood dripping from a few cuts on his face, hair tangled and armour dented, but he couldn't have been more relieved at the sight of her. And then suddenly she was colliding with him, arms wrapping fiercely around him like she'd never let go, a sob leaving her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
"It's alright." he spoke softly, though his voice shook. "It's alright."
It's not. She wanted to say. How could it be? But instead she hugged him tighter, and tried to pretend, if only for a second, that it was. That she believed it. Because she needed to believe that lie right now, more than anything.
°
Too many pyres stood before the gates of Winterfell. Not countless, but beyond the count of a broken heart.
Nymeria stood over Arryk's body, holding back tears. You're a hero. She wanted to say. You've never let me down. Never let your people down.but as the Free Folk said the dead couldn't hear them. It wasn't customary to say final words over their bodies, and for as long as she respected Arryk and his memory, she would respect those traditions. Pursing her lips as a tear slipped down her cheek, she reached out and wrapped her hand around his. Nothing could fix death. All she could do was send him on his way. Withdrawing her hand, she looked to her left and found Daenerys watching her with a miserable expression where she stood over Jorah's body. She turned quickly back towards the castle, rejoining the crowd standing there. She couldn't bear to get any closer to him, to see the ragged hole left in his chest by her own blade.
There was a long moment of silence as Sansa and Daenerys also returned to the group before Jon stepped forward. "We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters. To our fathers and mothers." Nymeria swallowed hard. "To our friends. Our fellow men and women who set aside their differences to fight together and die together so that others might live. Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and our honour... to keep them alive in memory. For those who come after us... for those who come after them..." For this night and all nights to come. "For as long as men draw breath! They were the shields that guarded the realms of men. And we shall never see their like again."
From the northmen around, the Starks took up torches. So did Daenerys and Grey Worm. So did Tormund and Sam and Edd. So did Nymeria. And in the setting sun, the pyres burned. Their people burned. The smoke was so thick it blotted out the sky, and Nymeria thought how terrible a thing that was. How telling. How many lives had been lost that in the clear northern skies, their dead could blot out the sun?
°
The feast started out quietly, respectfully. Everyone was likely still recovering somewhat from shock. The hearths of the hall crackled, the candles flickered. People talked quietly, indistinctly, small toasts being made here and there throughout the room as cups clinked together softly.
Then, as a familiar figure mover to slip out of the room by the high table, Daenerys spoke up. "Gendry." the boy paused, turning as the room fell silent. "That's right isn't it?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"You're Robert Baratheon's son. Did you know him?"
Gendry shook his head. "I never met him. I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead."
She nodded. "I didn't know my father either. And yet, as their children, it remains our duty to keep our houses alive."
His brows lifted slightly, a mixture of confusion and faint hopefulness on his face, as if he thought he knew what she was inferring but was afraid to jump to conclusions. "... Your Grace-"
"Do you know who is Lord of Storm's End, now that Robert and his brothers are gone?"
"No."
"I do. Lord Gendry Baratheon, lawful son of Robert Barathon. Legitimised this day by Daenerys of House Targaryen, Queen of the South."
A baffled but giddy smile began to grow on Gendry's face as her words sank in. His excitement was infectious, and Nymeria found herself beginning to smile too.
Davos was the first to stand, raising a cup as he smiled. "To Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End." he announced proudly. The rest of the hall followed suit, echoing the sentiment loudly.
The mood all around seemed to lift after that; chatter loudening, laughter and cheers echoing, cups clinking and people moving more freely about to mingle. That's what it is to rule. Nymeria thought to herself. To set aside your grief and give them something to celebrate. Because they need to believe that the world is still worth fighting for because the world is worth celebrating. Sighing into her cup, she quickly downed her drink, trying to lift her own spirits. It seemed to work. A couple of drinks later, her sadness was more clouded than it was sharp, drifting to the back of her mind.
A short while later, she found herself sitting cross-legged on the table by Jon and Sansa, Tormund leaning against it next to her with a grin and challenging her to a drinking match.
"Three horns!" He declared. "Full! First one to finish all three wins!"
Jon's expression was one of amused concern. "I don't know if that's the best-"
"Oh shush!" Nymeria smirked. "I'm game!"
Tormund laughed, and so the drinking began. Three horns later, she slammed her final one down mere seconds before the redheaded wildling, whooping victoriously. He gaped at her, huffing to regain his breath. "This woman is a beast!"
"A bear!" She laughed.
He turned wide, drunken eyes on Jon. "You are a lucky, lucky man King Crow."
Jon smiled, holding back a chuckle. "Believe me, I know." He reached out to wrap an arm around Nymeria's waist, pulling her into his side, as she uttered a small laugh of surprise. He wasn't the most publicly affectionate person, but hey, they'd just survived the impossible and he was at least a couple drinks in. Why the hell not?
"Your turn!" Tormund grinned, holding out a freshly-filled horn. "All of it!"
"No, not in one go." He denied with a smile.
"Aw, come on, I had three!" Nymeria protested.
"And look at you!" He laughed. "If I let go of you right now, you'd be on the floor."
"Yeah, probably." She giggled.
"Go on, I believe in you." Sansa smiled playfully.
"We have to celebrate our victory." Tormund agreed.
"Vomiting is not celebrating."
The wildling blinked at him. "Uhhyes it is." Jon laughed at that, and Tormund, apparently forgetting that he'd been trying to get Jon to drink, raised the horn high, addressing the whole hall. "To the Dragon Queen!" The returning cheer was loud and enthusiastic.
Daenerys stood with a smile, raising her own cup. "To Queen Nymeria and Arya Stark, the heroes of Winterfell!" another roaring response. Laugher ensued as Tormund slugged down his drink. As Sansa went off to wander the crowd, Daenerys deciding to keep to herself and Tyrion, Jon and Nymeria turned back to their friends.
"I saw her riding that thing." Tormund told his wildling friends, gesturing drunkenly at Nymeria, who was now sitting on Jon's lap.
"We all did." Davos pointed out.
"No." He insisted. "No. I saw her riding that thing!"
The Onion Knight raised his brows, nodding exaggeratedly. "That's right, you did."
"I did!" he turned back to them, nearly losing his balance in the process. "That's why we all agreed to follow them. They're bold. The kind of people we need." Nymeria grinned as he wrapped an arm almost suffocatingly around Jon's neck. "And this one, he's little..." he continued chuckling drunkenly. "But he's strong." Jon shot Nymeria a smile that looked more like a plea for help, but she was too busy laughing. "Strong enough to befriend an enemy and get murdered for it. Most people get bloody murdered, they stay that way." he slapped Jon on the back, bumping Nymeria too and making her snort into her drink. "Not this one!" the others laughed along with him.
Jon huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I didn't have much say in that."
"Bah! This madwoman brings him back and they keep on fighting. Here, North of the Wall, and then back here again." He sploshed drink around in his horn as he spoke, not paying any mind to it. "They keep fighting. They keep fighting. And then two queens climb up on dragons to fight! They should be legends! The man returned from the dead and the dragonriders!"
Nymeria grinned, wobbling slowly to her feet. "Well, you won't see me riding any more dragons until I'm sober."
Cackling wildly, Tormund abandoned his drink, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder as she screamed with laughter. He spun a few times before she managed to find purchase and hoisted herself around so she was sitting on his shoulder, Jon laughing at them all the while. When she reached downward for a cup, Tormund passed it up to her and she raised it over the Hall. "To Winterfell! And all you fantastic fucks who saved her!" the room cheered uproariously in response.
A/N:
After the resounding respose to last chapter being that I am a cruel author, I thought I'd give you guys a bit of a break. I always planned on Lyanna surviving, I was undecided about Edd but now he's alive too, you're welcome. This chapter and next, for sure, are a bit of a reprive from the madness lol. Hope u enjoyed <3