A Dragon In Wolf's Clothing ~A Game of Thrones fan fiction~

Chapter Thirty Four: The House of the Undying

Daenerys and Lyanna both stood outside the large stone tower, looking at each other anxiously as they stood by the wooden door.

"We go in here, and we get Winter and the dragons back?" Lyanna asked nervously.

"And risk our lives doing so," Dany sighed.

"It will be worth it, I need Winter and you need your dragons," Lyanna pointed out, stroking the tight braid on the top of her head.

Ever since her hair had been cut there had been nothing to do with it, except for tight braids on the top of her head. They almost made her look manly, as her hair was no longer hanging around her face to feminise her large nose and strong jaw, but not manly enough, as since her arrival in Quarth, she had worn nothing but the airy dresses she had been given, mostly to be polite. However today she had made a special effort, dressing in her leather armours over a leather skirt she had sewn herself (as remarkable as it sounds, she'd been able to apply enough of the Septa's lessons to stitch together some strips of leather she had found at the market with Alize's help). Armed with her two swords at her belt, small Quartheen knives in her boots and Robb's dagger in a special holder on her back, she felt ready for a fight, although she knew that a fight was unlikely; the house of the undying was home to Warlocks, not warriors.

That didn't mean she wasn't afraid though. She was about to walk into a sorcerer's trap, who knew what would happen, what would be shown to her, what would greet her as she walked through those doors? Dany seemed to notice Lyanna's hand clench around the hilt of her sword and guessed her niece was nervous, so she placed her hand on her arm.

"Are you scared?" Dany asked her. Lyanna shook her head.

"No." She lied, but once she said it, it almost became true. She was a dire wolf of Winterfell, and a dragon of house Targaryen, she should fear nothing. "In the North, the only true thing we fear is winter, and the house of the undying isn't winter," Lyanna took a deep breath, and without waiting to see if her aunt was going to follow her, she opened the door and walked in.

Hearing the door slam behind her, Lyanna jumped slightly, before regaining herself. The hallway she was faced with was poorly lit, only with flickering candles hanging from the stone walls. The darkness reminded her of Winterfell's crypts, and the time when Robb and Jon tried to scare her, Sansa, Bran and Arya by pretending to be ghosts. A faint smile flickering on her face, Lyanna held both her hands out, stroking the stone walls, trying to feel her way to the end of the corridor. Normally, she didn't like the dark, but for once, she was comfortable in the minimal light, almost feeling one with it.

Eventually she reached the end, feeling a steel door. Trying to find the handle, Lyanna patted the metal, expecting the door to be locked, but when she found it, it turned, clicking as it pushed open. The opened door revealed something which made her heart cry; Winterfell.

Winterfell, how it was the day she left, the way she remembered it. It made her want to cry out in joy and sorrow, knowing she wouldn't see it for such a long time, but yet she was still seeing it. It wasn't exactly like how Winterfell was though, as the courtyard was empty, not even a dire wolf or a horse was trotting though. No Bran climbing the walls. No Theon laughing as he rode back through the courtyard on his way home from the brothel. No Rickon playing with toy sword with the other little children. No Sansa, sewing with the Septa, whist Arya ran around with the boys. No Jon training with Robb. No Lord and Lady Stark watching their children from the balcony. No Jory, Cayn, Fat Tom, or any one from her father's guard. No Hodor or Old Nan. No one was around, it was completely deserted.

That was until a beautiful woman stepped out from around the corner. Her face was pale and slim, her cheekbones well-defined. She had a slim little nose and full lips, her eyes a kind violet. Her white-blonde hair was left down with a few pink flowers braided into it, showing off natural curls, framing her face. A slim figure with wide hips was exaggerated by her pale pink dress, met with a golden necklace hanging around her neck. She was smiling, and it seemed like that is what she should always be doing, because it made her seem so much more beautiful, if that was possible.