The Little Wolf

Forgotten

Winterfell

Everything had changed since the King had arrived. Everything. 

To Lyra, the King seemed moronic and slow, but Cersei, his Queen, wasn't. She was so bitter and fiendish, yet clever in a cunning way. Lyra's mother, Lady Catelyn, had become so worried over having her daughter and Lev around Cersei, she was ordered to spend most of her time in her chamber. It was out of love, and Lyra understood her parents merely wanted to protect her, but it was difficult for Lyra. She enjoyed being on her own, but not in the one place. She enjoyed having adventures on her own outside, where there were no limits to her imagination and her brave conquests seemed so real, even if they were a figment of her mind. However, facing the same drab, grey walls was not the way Lyra enjoyed solitude. She scoffed to her old, patched-up bear how she was an Outsider both in a figurative and literal sense. An Outsider was a 'kind' of person, which Lyra was, yet she was equally alienated she felt she understood where the term arose from.

Every couple of hours, Catelyn would slip into Lyra's room and embrace her young daughter sympathetically, struggling to let go, making Lyra aware of how difficult it was for her mother. Catelyn "never had much of an opinion on Outsiders" before Lyra was born, but now she would go to any lengths to make sure their infamous mistreatment would never reach her baby. After a number of weeks, Lyra quite looked forward to her mother's visits, and would wait standing at the door for her to walk in.

That was until the accident.

Not even a week earlier, her older brother, Bran, had been found unconscious at the foot of a tower. He had seemingly fallen, but no one seemed to believe that story. All knew, even Lyra in her four year old wisdom, that Bran had climbed in every condition, even when the stones were slippery and footing was seemingly impossible, and had never fallen. Now, her mother wasted away by Bran's comatose side, and Cersei's smile seemed to get more cunning. 

The days following Bran's fall, Lyra went forgotten. The chaos of the King's arrival was enough for her to go unnoticed, but the tragedy of the fall made it impossible for anyone to remember that the little lady had not been fed, bathed, tucked in, or even had her chamber pot cleaned. So, Lyra made her way outside to scavenge some food. 

And, in a momentary lapse of caution, she had allowed Lev to change form. As soon as it occurred, panic took over and Lev squawked a warning, prompting Lyra to turn around, startled.

Lannister eyes had seen. 

"You're an Outsider!" the man proclaimed, but not with fear, rather admiration. The figure emerged further from the shadows, revealing a stout man, who stood at Lyra's height-an imp, as many called him. 

Lyra stood frozen in shock, frantically thinking of what to say.

"A Helai is you if you were an animal, I understand?" the small man asked. Lyra didn't answer, she just gently backed away. 

"Are you scared of me?" the man asked again, looking genuinely confused at the girls silence and fright. Then, he remembered-the history of Outsiders, Helai's and what his family did to them. While the order was to banish them, the Lannister's decided to murder them instead. Lyra knew this, and unfortunately for the small Lannister man, so did he. 

"Well then, I must apologise. Apologise for my families treatment of your kind. I could not choose what family I was born to, and my surname is no indication of my opinions. If I had it my way, Outsider's would flourish" he added, looking rather sad.

Lyra's feelings conflicted, from feeling she must be cautious, to strangely wanted to trust this man. She uttered softly, almost at a whisper, "This is Lev."

The man smiled and extended a hand to pet Lev, but the owl flinched away. He gained his composure and said with a smile, "I'm Tyrion".

"Lyra" she replied, gently smiling. 

They spoke for a while, Tyrion apologising for Bran's fall, Lyra explaining more about Helai's and the "destiny" everyone said was waiting for her, but she knew nothing about. Just before they bid each other farewells, Tyrion jokingly measured his height against Lyra's, and pretended to cheer when he realised he was a small amount taller. 

Lyra walked off, giggling, and she thought to herself that maybe not everyone is bad, maybe not all are watchful of her kind. Perhaps one day, maybe when she is a knight, Outsider's will come back and demand the respect they deserve.

That night, as she struggled to sleep thinking about Bran, and her isolation, she couldn't help but feel happy. She had made a friend. And, for Lyra, that was a cause to celebrate. Someone actually wanted to spend time with her, and they weren't an animal, and they weren't imaginary.

They were real.