PYROPHILIA ▸ Aegon the Conqueror

chapter i.

IT WAS NOT an odd thing for the North to celebrate. Many would argue that Northeners were cold people, who strayed from such excitements, but that could hardly be the truth. The day the youngest child of the King came to life, the entire North was drinking and feasting in her name. Alys Stark had been giving birth for hours before the cry of the princess was heard and the woman managed to catch her breath, a wide smile forming across her face.

It had been a long and troublesome winter for the last months. The men had grown weaker and the women rougher. The people were harsher than usual, customed to the demands of the season. The moment the Queen held her daughter in her arms, it felt as though winter had been replaced by an endless summer.

"She is light." She had announced to her husband, once he barged into their chambers to see his wife and child. "Look at her Torrhen."

Torrhen Stark was a proud and serious man, but he shed joyful tears all the same, once he held his daughter, who looked tiny – almost elf like – the way the heavy furs covered her.

"She looks like you, my King." Alys said unable to take her eyes off her baby. Torrhen didn't answer, but simply walked towards his wife, placing their daughter in her arms and kissing her warmly and delicately on her forehead, as if she would break at any moment. "Thank you" he whispered to her ear, before he led his fingers to caress his daughter's cheek.

"Have you thought of a name, my husband?" Alys asked him. He nodded.

"Lyarra." He answered proudly. "Her name is Lyarra Stark."

Soon the entire kingdom was praying for their youngest princess; Lyarra. The Maester had been worried over the girl's health. She had been born a weakling and for the first months of her life, she had been prone to both illness and the cold. But Lyarra had proved him wrong. Despite being born rather small, she had been growing fast and becoming stronger by the day. As the years passed, Lyarra had grown more beautiful, even more than her older sister, Arsa. Lyarra often found herself clinging to her sister's dresses and Arsa had never scolded her for that, despite the fact that privacy was no longer an option for her.

But it wasn't just Arsa. Elric and Benjen, her older brothers were in awe of their sister. Benjen would ofter tell stories to her or try to teach her how to write and read. He was a boy buried in his books, spending his time with the Maesters. It had been a long time since a Stark was interested in the sciences and arts, one of them had said. Benjen's interests were looked down on in the North, where people did not value books or any other kind of theoretical knowledge. But Lyarra would always find herself following him around like a shadow, simply observing him and the all too careful way he handled the people's stares once he passed through Winterfell, his manuscripts under his arm. He would be busy to pay any mind to her most of the time, but he would let her join or be by his side. In fact, once he noticed her growing lonely or tired, he would read passages of novels, history books and songs to her, in the sweetest voice he could fathom.