The Little Wolf

Guilty of Nothing

King's Landing

She was hauled through the streets by her hair. 

As Ser Deacon dragged her through the amassing people, she was spat upon, shouted at and had rotten foods thrown at her little body. There were shouts of "Monster!" and "You were risen from Hell, Monster!", while some just backed away in fright.

She was lugged back into the very castle she was attempting to flee, and taken to see the new King and Cersei. She was thrown to the floor of the throne room, and kicked by Ser Deacon to move closer to the royals. 

Lyra looked up, and through her tears and fright, she was relieved to see Sansa was there, worry in her eyes, and not injured like she'd feared. Also present was her father, who was chained, like her, his eyes holding more sorrow seeing his daughter manacled then she had ever seen in them. He had tried to protect her since her birth, and now, just five years later, she was to plead her innocence for a crime she didn't mean to commit.

"I've chained the monster!" Ser Deacon announced, looking around like he was a hero who had conquered a beast - which, in his mind, he did. 

"So, the traitor's daughter is an Outsider?" Joffrey barked. He was sitting on the ugly throne like he was born on it, looking down on the commoners like rats foraging in the streets. He then spat at the ground in front of Lyra, and snapped, "Speak, Monster!"

Lyra looked up at her father, and he gently nodded at her. Lyra stifled her tears and whimpered, "I am being punished for a crime I did not commit, Your Grace."

"Don't feign innocence, Monster", her new King snarled. "You and your Kind will hatch plans and conspire to remove me from my Throne."

Only then did she realise how dire her situation was. They were not going to trial her fairly, they were going to trial her biasedly, and smile as she was led to the gallows. It was only then that she realised they wanted to execute her - and while she could wander for what, she could not question it. She wanted to be strong, she wanted to live, but in that moment nothing but extreme terror filled her little body. She, crumpled on the floor in agonising pain from Ser Deacon's attack, wailed desperately, wishing she would awaken to her mother singing her out of this nightmare.

She wept, "I promise you, I had no say over how I was born. I promise you, I will not hatch any plan, or conspire with others of my Kind. Return me to the North, and I shall never leave. If a war arises, I will choose no side. Should I leave I will face execution, or journey deep beyond the Wall in exile to the Land of Always Winter. I will marry no man, or mother no children. This I vow to you."

The King and his commoners guffawed at the girl's speech, before he hissed, "You are a traitor's daughter, a monster, too low for even peasants to spit upon. You and your kind were born for one thing: Execution"

"I acknowledge the crime, I do...I tell you, Your Grace, that I did not mean to commit it. I beg of you, have mercy", Lyra retorted, still in tears.

Behind her, the beast of a man chortled. He kicked her again, and Lyra could see her father struggle against the guards that restrained him. Ser Deacon grimaced, and said curtly, "There is no such thing as mercy, one day, you vicious little monster, you will learn. Mercy fails to exist."

Joffrey rose from his hideous chair this time, walking down the stairs to stand over the little girl. He spat on her again, and said menacingly, "I thank you for your performance, Monster, it was most entertaining... You shall not be executed." Her father and sister, she could see, sighed out in relief at the reprieve. Eddard had his eyes closed and was mouthing something, and Lyra knew it was a prayer. He prayed it whenever he thought Lyra was asleep during her early childhood: a prayer that she and her Soul would remain safe, protected and whole.

Lyra almost felt relieved. Quickly, though, she realised there was to be no way she would be getting out of this. She knew in that instant- her punishment would be worse than death. 

"Ser Deacon", the King grinned sickeningly, "take her and do what you will, I permit it all". 

Her father struggled again, shouting something that Lyra couldn't make out, and Ser Deacon hauled her to her bloodied feet by her hair, making her wince in pain. As she was dragged out of the room, she only saw flashes. Her father was crying - she had never seen her father cry. Though he was loving and compassionate, he was so stern in all he did. Sadness oozed out of his soul, Lyra could sense, but never did it form a tear to leave his eye. Not until now.

Ser Deacon had one long stride to Lyra's six little steps, and she found herself unable to keep up. On the ground she was dragged, still by her hair that ripped and shredded her scalp to a bloodied mess. The voice of the King continued to boom through the Throne room; his voice passing her sentence, a punishment worse than death:

"She is a Monster, a vicious beast, death is too good for her. Cage her again, Ser, and destroy her Soul to eradicate the beast she calls a Helai".