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

Chapter Forty Five: Pledge

Despite carrying a grudge against Dany for ignoring her opinion, Lyanna still went to her tent that night to talk.

When she got there, Dany was in the bath, talking to Missandei about languages. Lyanna had always loved other languages and had always tried to get Maester Lewin to teach her whatever he knew. In between history lessons and sewing classes as a girl she'd spend her time with him memorising Valerian phrases out of books to teach herself the language whenever the Maester wasn't around, and when he was she would milk as much information out of him as possible.

"Lyanna speaks Valeryian, don't you?" Daenerys said as soon as she saw her niece walk in the tent, dragging her into the conversation.

"Almost fluently, though there wasn't that much call for it in the north," she shrugged, sitting down next to the tub, getting out her dagger and beginning to sharpen it. "There were few books on languages at Winterfell, so I picked up most of it from the Maester,"

"Wasn't there a library in the Red Keep?" Missandei asked.

"Yes, but it was controlled by the Grand Maester," she shrugged. "I wasn't going to go anywhere near books if it meant I had to talk to him. I had stories I'd brought from Winterfell, but no language books, I didn't think things would play out how they did, I thought..." Lyanna trailed off bored of talking.

"What's King's Landing like?" Missandei asked and Lyanna rolled her eyes.

"Imagine a massive, stinking pile of shit, now imagine it with a few castles and towers, taverns and brothels and just throw in a few murderers and rapists, and there you have the festering shit heap of King's Landing," Lyanna spat out, remembering the smell she was faced with every waking hour. "The south is a crap hole, the north... That's the true beauty of Westeros,"

"Winterfell," Daenerys said, as if she was trying the word out.

"Winterfell, Bear Island, the Wall, the wolfs wood, Sea Dragon Point, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, Blazewater Bay, the Dreadfort," Lyanna recited the names of keeps like they were her dearest friends, remembering her lessons from Maester Lewin. The thought of the north created a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. "The north is vast and harsh but beautiful. It's better than any southern keep, the sights, the people, everything is better in the north. It's like the constant snowfall and rain washes away all the badness. There are terrible people everywhere, but those in the north seem  just a little more... My Uncle Benjen once said 'that the world is full of scum, but the northern people are honest scum. They do what they have to do to survive, they face winter head-on, and they occasionally manage kindness'. The south is full of cheats, liars and storytellers, but everything is out in the open in the north, out in the cold people pull together and it makes them stronger and wiser,"

As her whetstone clanged against the steel of her dagger, she thought of home again. The twisted cobbled streets that she'd run down whilst playing chase with Bran and Rickon. The bonfires Robb, Jon and Theon would build out in the clearings in the forests with they'd sneak out of the castle at night. The sound of Sansa practicing playing the harp spreading all through their part of the great stone castle, reaching Lyanna's room as she read. Camping out in the stables with Snow in the cold nights bundled up in thick cotton blankets. Evenings spent sneaking drinks of wine or ale with Jon as the two set the world right, talking until they fell asleep next to each other. The thought of the north triggered so many memories for Lyanna, to the extent that she wished she could go back into the past like rereading a storybook.

So engrossed in the past, Lyanna almost didn't hear the flutter of the tent opening or the gasp from the younger girl. Lyanna's head snapped up to see one of the Second Son's, the young one, Dharrio Naharis, holding a knife to Missandei's throat. She jumped up, pointing her own blade at him, though any move towards him would be dangerous towards Missandei. Throwing a look to Daenerys, she saw she had a similar look on her face; fear, anger, hatred.

"Is now a bad time to say I told you the Second Sons were dangerous?" Lyanna hissed to Dany who shot her a small glare. "Drop your blade, step away from the girl, and I'll still kill you, but gentler than I originally planned," 

"Be quiet, Princess," he spoke over her, instead keeping eye contact with Daenerys, overlooking Lyanna.

"What do you want?" she snarled, and he took a few steps closer, dragging Missandei along with him, whilst Lyanna stood her ground, staying between the two of them.

"You," he offered her a sly smile, making Lyanna roll her eyes. It was like Lyanna could hae predicted this.

"Let her go," Dany demanded.

"Or what, you'll set your wolf on me?" he smirked, as he let go of Missandei, almost pushing her towards Lyanna and Dany. "My commanders wanted me to kill you,"

"So why don't you?" Dany asked before Lyanna could get the words out.

"We had conflicting opinions, on you," he said simply, almost shrugging, taking his sack off from his shoulder, tipping it upside down letting two severed heads drop onto the floor. Lyanna jumped back, feeling sick, closing her eyes. A moment of weakness, as the sight triggered memories of the death of Eddard Stark, and the sight of his head on the floor. Dharrio noticed, as he spoke again, "Do they frighten you, Wolf girl?"

"Fuck off," she spat at him, keeping her eyes off the floor, turning to face Dany. "You see what I mean now about Sell Swords? Their loyalty flits about like flies on a mule! And you still want them in your army?"

"How do I know that you won't do the same to me?" Daenerys addressed him, sparing a glance to Lyanna. "How do I trust a man who murders his comrades?"

"They gave me no choice," he explained, giving one of the heads a nudge with his foot, making Lyanna recall herself further away in disgust. "They said I had no choice but to kill you, so I told them I was Dharrio Naharis and I always have a choice. They drew their swords, and I drew mine. I only do what I want to do, and right now I want to fight for you,"

Lyanna hated where this was going, especially when Daenerys got out of the bathtub, standing bare in front of the sell sword that could easily kill all of them and betray her forces. As if Daenerys was falling for it all too! Lyanna felt the annoyance grow inside of her again, but knew better to speak out for the second time against her decision with the Second Sons, to the extent she stood back, sliding her blade back into its scabbard, arms folded as she watched Dany receive the pledge of Dharrio's arms, and his life.

Maybe Dharrio could be trusted, but for now, Lyanna wanted to be stubborn as she headed back to her own tent, finding it the exact same she left it. Eryk in a tent of his own, directly next to theirs, Rey sleeping at the entryway, Winter curled up on Lyanna's bed, Alize asleep in her bed, snoring softly, her body curled into a ball tightly, almost protectively, like she was shielding herself as she slept. Sighing, Lyanna stripped out of her armour, slipping on a thin night shirt, flopping back onto her bed as Winter padded closer to her, placing a slobbery kiss on her cheek as the two fell asleep together.

Even if the world was falling apart, if Daenerys was leading them all to their deaths by placing her trust in wrong hands, Lyanna had her tent as a small bubble of normality, of peace.

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Word count: 1349

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