Chapter Text
Lyanna knew she had ridden too far when the silence crept over the forest.
She pulled her hood over her hair, the wind had made a mess out of the dark braid that the septa had tied so carefully.
Her horse neighed and tossed its head nervously. A lesser animal would have panicked and galloped away but her mare listened carefully, tuning in on her every movement, ready to obey her softest signal.
"Hush, girl... We'll be all right if we keep our heads, we'll be home in no time..."
Idea of home wasn't that appealing. Lord Arryn had brought her brother home, but with him had followed another man as well, Robert Baratheon of Storm's End.
Her future lord husband.
Handsome, fun, an excellent kisser.
The milkmaid had appeared to appreciate his talent in said activity, when she had walked in on them at the stables.
Funny how she had never noticed maids nipples were so large and brown. Must have been the fact that she usually wore her bodice up, not down, while milking the cows.
No, Lyanna wouldn't have been in a hurry to get home unless the entire world hadn't started to act up.
The heavy snow turned light and crackling, the water under turned to ice making the horse unsteady.
Entire forest had gone blue, shadows grew thinner and paler, like something had eaten all of the faint, already setting, winter sun.
Lyanna signaled the horse to turn and head south, but then she saw something standing at the edge of the forest.
Something with bluest eyes she had ever seen.
He was magnificent.
A tall broad shouldered man, his skin was like a blue leather armour. His handsome face had well defined cheekbones and full lips, wearing only an armoured vest and sleeves to cover his upper body.
Still, Lyanna knew he wasn't cold, he was the cold.
A dying wolf howled somewhere. Had she heard it, the sound would have broken her heart.
The tree branches and treetops seemed to bundle and tangle together at her periphery, shadows weren't cast down but up to the sky and they had minds of their owns, biting her and pouring venom into her veins, screaming, threatening, telling her to urge her horse away.
But every sharp branch, shadow and whisper sloped to the edge of the forest, to the point where the glorious stranger stood.
His skin was a pale blue, as if made of thin glass like the chalice the septa made her drink her wine from.
He had a small smile on his face but his blue eyes, shining like sapphire stones that had candles lit inside them, weren't looking at her, but right past her.
She didn't turn to the look but knew the shadows behind her were making room for her to ride away.
Dizzy, Lyanna shook her head and tried to anchor her thoughts to the warmth of Winterfell, its fires and furs; her room there was practically lined with furs to keep the winter outside.
She was cold, colder than she had ever been and her thick wool cloak couldn't help her because her cold had turned into heat.
The heat had settled inside her, streaming from the stranger and she knew that she wanted to touch him.
Lyanna caressed her horse and dismounted it, forgetting all about the animal that was actually so dear to her.
The Stranger was at least ten yards away, but somehow Lyanna reached him with only three steps.
She knew she needed to touch him, she needed to feel his blue full lips on hers, she tried to ask for him to kiss her, but could only whisper words that didn't make sense to herself,
"Flaming ice... Who are you?"
He took her hand she had reached out for him but didn't let her touch him.
He turned, holding her hand and brought Lyanna behind him.
"Stop. Stop. You fool..."
She was strong enough to make him stop and turn around and before he could stop her she jumped on him, pressed her lips against his and drank the intoxicating blue light from his essence.
It was nothing she had felt before, nothing she could ever have imagined before, something completely other to everything what she had known.
The blow of the energy pushed her on her knees and she cursed out of frustation but the Stranger, the Other, didn't let her stay on the snow.
Leading her through the forest and past a Weirwood tree they must have traveled tens of miles with only so few steps.
He took her into his arms and lifted her onto something warm.
She was lying on an altar, she noticed, though still dizzy.
He leaned forwards to her and she hoped he would kiss her, but he merely stared deep into her grey eyes and pressed a finger on her forehead.