The Little Wolf

Her Soul's Escape

King's Landing

Her eyes never left the mirror, and her back never turned.

She reached behind her to close the shutters of the window. Just as she slammed them shut, the flame of the candle, sitting on her nightstand, flickered to nothing before extinguishing altogether.

Darkness. Now there were only faint shapes in her chamber. Yet, one figure was more obvious than the rest. One figure pressing it's grey form against the mirror threatening to break out.

The monster.

Lyra sidled discreetly back to the small table beside her bed. Wolf, the knife Jon had gifted to her, rested, awaiting use. Reaching for the knife, her little hands trembling in fright, she eyed the monster as it backed away, out of vision.

"P-please don't hurt me", the little girl sighed timidly, still reaching slowly for her own weapon. She understood it made little sense pleading for mercy, when she, too, was reaching for a weapon, but her fright was extreme. The monster had lingered in her mirror for over a year, and one day, Lyra knew it was going to find a way out.

Lyra hesitantly tiptoed toward the mirror, Wolf clutched in her hand. Soon she was standing not even a metre from her reflection, but the monster was no where to be seen. Yet, Lyra refused to be relieved. It was worse now that she couldn't see the monster, for now she hadn't a clue where it was. For the first time since the its arrival in her mirror, it wasn't the monster staring back at her that scared her-it was the sudden absence of it.

She heard a gentle growl  behind her, Lev undoubtedly had changed to match her fear, but undeniable bravery. Reluctantly, Lyra peeled her eyes off the mirror and turned to face Lev- a young wolf. Lev had only changed into a wolf a couple of times in the past four years, each time making Lyra proud as she felt like a true Stark if the animal that mimicked her soul was her house sigil. However, pride was not something Lyra had time to feel, and fear, quite quickly, rushed back to her, overwhelming her.

Her back had been turned for less than five seconds, but almost as soon as her eyes left the mirror a terrible dread settled in. The feeling that someone was watching her- the feeling she always got when the monster was prowling-caused her heart to skip a beat. Lev, perhaps in mimic of her dread, or perhaps as he saw something, leaped back, almost squealing.

Lyra spun around to face the mirror. The monster was there, staring at her square in the face. Its ice blue eyes almost mimicked hers in beauty, but its skin was pale, and bumpy with old wounds that seemingly failed to heal. Helm on head, icy sword at its side and black and grey armour and tattered clothing adorned it's hideous body, it was both ghastly and terrifying.

It reached its ice hand forward, threatening to penetrate the mirror that parted the girl and the beast. Lyra, air caught in throat, trusted her knife into the mirror. The reflection cracked, sending a sharp line from top to bottom of the glass. She retracted the knife and thrust it into the mirror again, and continued until the monster retreated. The glass shattered from the frame of the mirror and fell to the floor like a harsh rainfall. Lyra, bloodied all up her arms and legs, crumpled to the floor amidst the sea of shattered glass, oblivious to the blinding pain that shot through her little body.

Then she screamed.

She screamed, nothing in particular, until her throat was ripped war. Not until tears squeezed out of her eyes and chased each other down her reddened cheeks, did she refuse to settle. She was so overwhelmed by all that had happened. A surge of fear, anger, and frustration rippled through her little body. She covered her head, and shrivelled into a ball, looking smaller than she had ever looked in her life, shaking violently.

She didn't notice the flood of people in her chamber. She tuned it all out, her mind was blank except for the image of the monster.

Gradually, her senses returned as her mind awoke from its shutdown. She felt her father's hands on her, the voices of her sisters, the deep grey of her Maester's eyes, the pang of fear deep in her gut unsure where Lev was, if he had been spotted, or if he'd fled.

Her mind, however, continued to flicker between reality and the nightmare of her mind.

The monster, the monster, the monster.

Her mind screamed, repeating almost psychotically. The monster. It's ice stare, the fear of its approach ripped through her mind like a knife.

It was then that pain returned to her, toppling her little body like waves she couldn't emerge from. The pain in her hand, still healing from when she grabbed the Prince's blade and it sliced into her small hands. Pain up her legs and arms, moist with blood. Pain in her throat from her screaming.

She heard a voice asked timidly what had happened, a soft voice in her mind, asking herself.

"The monster" Lyra replied.

The voice asked again, to which Lyra replied, once more, "the monster".

The monster, the monster, the monster.

She felt herself be ripped away once more, the voice of her soul grew fainter, the pain more distant, the tender touch of her father light on her skin, the grey of Leland's eyes blending to black.

In her mind she saw a butterfly. A white butterfly, illuminated by the dark of her mind. A butterfly, to an Outsider, was the symbol of freedom. Lev. Dancing in the wind, Lev continued to soar. Her soul continued to soar.

She was unlocked from the confines of her body, holding her soul like a cage. She danced like a butterfly in the wind.

She was free.