When winter comes, her flame will light the way.
Growing up in the North was something people did not take for granted; her family ruled the Icelands and the people that came with it. They trained the girls alongside of the boys, knowing the dangers...
Chapter Five: The art of families Game of Thrones, Season 1
✺ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ✺
"Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you." — Tyrian Lanniser
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
WINTERFELL THE NORTH
Nyssa Ember adored feasts as long as they were with the right people. When she kept good company, she knew the night would be filled with laughter and stories whereas bad company often resulted in awkward occurrences.
Nyssa didn't appreciate the fact Lady Stark had made Jon sit with the common folk because the Royal family were there but there was nothing they could say. It only felt right that Nyssa went to check up on Jon, especially since she'd heard the news she didn't want to be confirmed.
"Did you plan on telling us you were going to the wall?"
Her voice was bold as she leant upon the stable fence, watching the boy she adored ever so much in front of her. Jon turned, caught off guard but relieved it was only Nyssa.
"Of course I was going to tell you," Jon assured. "I was just waiting for the right time and to know if I could actually go. How did you...?"
"Your Uncle, I heard you talking," Nyssa admitted. "So did he."
Tyrian Lannister didn't even know that Nyssa saw him standing there and neither did Jon. It appeared the young Ember had quite the attention to detail and people.
"What are you doing back there?" Jon questioned.
"Preparing for a night with your family." Tyrian replied, taking a swig of his drink. "I've always wanted to see the Wall..."
"You're Tyrion Lannister. The Queen's brother?" Jon questioned.
"My greatest accomplishment. And you – you're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Tyrion replied as Jon looked away. "Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though."
"Lord Eddard Stark is my father—"
"And Lady Stark is not your mother, making you the bastard."
"I don't think you are helping," Nyssa commented quietly, glaring at Tyrian.
"Let me give you some advice, bastard: never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you," Tyrian explained.
"What the hell do you know about being a bastard?" Jon questioned as Tyrian went to walk away.
"All dwarves are bastards in their fathers' eyes."
"Would you like some words of the Embers?" Nyssa persisted.
"Please, pray tell, Lady Nyssa," Tyrian waved his hand.
