Darkness. Nothing. Death.

"Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon,"

"Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon,"

"Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson,"

'Come back to me, come back,'

Fire. Light. Life.

Lyanna felt like an empty cave, barren of life, a shell of something which had been, until a flaming beacon was thrown into her, reigniting life, both in her soul and inside her body.

Her eyes flashed open and her chest heaved as she took in her first breath. Her throat stung and all her insides ached as everything came back to life. Her eyes saw nothing but white, the overwhelming brightness blinding her, until she remembered that everything would seem bright considering where she had come from.

'I'm dead,' she thought. 'They cut my throat and I died. Is this the afterlife?'

No, it couldn't be. Everything seemed too real, especially the voices calling out to her, though her ears were still ringing with white noise she could hear someone calling her name.

Lyanna suddenly felt overwhelmed, all the sensations of life coming back to her. She had been laying down on a hard wooden table, but Lyanna quickly jumped up, finding her feet as she threw herself off the table and tried to stand, only to loose all feeling in her legs and stumble.

Someone caught her, their tight arms grabbing her as she fell, holding her in a tight embrace. Their arms seemed warm and comforting, and she lulled back against them for support.

"Lya!" The voice called again, and only as she looked up did she realise it was Jon holding her.

"Jon..." Lyanna spoke, and as the words came out, her hand jumped up to her throat, remembering what had happened.

Lyanna's cold, shaking fingers traced across where the knife had made its mark in ending her life. It had killed her, she remembered feeling the blood seep out of her, so how was she here? Instead of a page, gaping cut like she thought would be there was a thin bump across her thrust, stitched together with fine, wire-like thread, holding it together. As her fingers touched the stitches, Jon took her and pulling it away.

"Don't..." he said, pausing as if he realised he didn't know what to say. "Lyanna... there was nothing, no afterlife, no heavens,"

"I always said the gods were a waste of time," Lyanna muttered, through she didn't think now was the time for humour.

"Except for the god who brought you both back," a woman spoke which was when Lyanna noticed the others in the room. An old man with a short grey beard, a big ginger bearded wildling, Cassius practically hiding in the corner in fear and shock, and this red woman.

"A red priestess?" Lyanna squinted through the dank lighting, her eyes still adjusting to being alive again. "I thought they were only in Essos, how long have we been dead?"

"A day and a half at most," the old man spoke, trying not to look at her. Lyanna frowned, confused as to why he wasn't meeting her eye, when she realised that she was naked. Cassius offered her her cloak and Lyanna gladly wrapped it around herself. "I found you myself, and stitched your throat up. I'm surprised you can even speak, considering, well..."

"I'm surprised I'm even alive!" She snapped, her restarted heart pounding. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Will you leave us for a moment?" Jon asked, sensing Lyanna's nerves.

Silently, everyone left, leaving the two stood there. Neither knew what to do or to say. Well, what was there to say? That they had died? That they had been resurrected? Instead, Lyanna stood there, Cassius' cloak draped over her, her hand placed on her neck almost protectively, thinking about death, the prospect seeming more real than it ever had done before, and more terrifying too.

"I thought you were dead," she announced flatly. "I thought I was dead. I mean, we were. I made my son an orphan and my husband a widower,"

"I know," his tone seemed as flat and exhausted as hers. "I'm sorry,"

"It's not your fault, you didn't cut my throat," she sighed. "I'm sorry too,"

"It's not your fault either, you didn't stab me in the chest six times," Jon said, looking at her in the corner of his eye. The two met each other's gaze, and began to laugh hysterically. "Oh, 'Anna, only you can make us laugh at our own deaths,"

"Killed by crows, killed by people I wanted to call my brothers," she began to shake her head as she stopped laughing and began to feel angry.

"My own brothers, all I did was help the Wildlings past the wall and away from the Nights King," Jon shook his own head. "Our own men died, and when the white walkers come we're all dead, Wildling or otherwise, unless we stand together and fight,"

Lyanna sighed, her whole body feeling exhausted, though she was too afraid to sleep, in case the darkness surrounded her completely once more. Jon wrapped his arms around his sister, and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about how, for a while, he had lost everything. Lyanna thought about the same, and whilst neither of them spoke, the silence between them was communication enough for how they both felt.

If anything, Lyanna was more certain that she needed to take Winterfell back from the Boltons, whereas Jon didn't know what to do, where to go, what to think.

***

The traitors were lined up, rope around their necks, the rest of the Night's Watch stood around watching. The occasional wildling was there too, and all of them looked at Jon and Lyanna like they were gods. One wildling however seemed to laugh at that prospect, and that wildling was by far Lyanna's favourite.

"They call you a god, but I know you're not, I've seen your pecker and what sort of God would have a pecker that small?" he laughed slightly, hitting Jon's arm gently before he turned to Lyanna at Jon's side. "You however, are a goddess,"

"There was a slaver in Essos who said something like that to me," Lyanna felt a smile prick up on her face. "I stabbed him with a throwing knife and then watched as my dragon burnt him to death," she watched as his face turned serious, and then for the first time since her death she began to laugh. "I'm kidding, Jon told me that you saved his life more than a few times, which makes me grateful. I'm Lyanna Stark,"

"Tormund Giantsbane, though the first time I met your brother he knelt before me as if I was a king," he laughed, and the two watched as Jon made his way up to the stage where the prisoners were awaiting execution, the rope dangling around their necks tauntingly. "He's a good man, my people would all be wi- well, they'd be lost without him,"

"He's his father's son," she commented, raising an eyebrow as she watched him taking his time to hear the last words of each traitor.

As Lyanna watched, she felt her stomach turn the way it had been for a while, and then she felt butterflies within her, feeling quite different to the way they felt usually. This was the fluttering of nerves, and in that moment, she heard the noise of wings flapping, and the swooping of a dragon. The others sensed it too, and looking up, everyone saw Rey coming to land, and the men and wildlings moved quickly to get out of the way. Even Jon looked on in fear, though Lyanna smirked.

"Fucking hell!" Tormund exclaimed in disbelief.

"What? You have giants beyond the wall, and murderous Thenns and fearsome beasts like direwolves, but you're scared of a dragon?" Lyanna raised another eyebrow. "Calm down, Giantsbane, she's mine,"

At that, Lyanna began to walk down to where Rey had landed and the dragon let out a screech. She gave the dragon a small smile as it lowered its head, resting her hand on the black and grey scales. She nudged her head into Lyanna's stomach lovingly and Lyanna laughed slightly, before she saw the traitors out of the corner of her eye, remembering the last time she stood in that courtyard and they cut her throat open. The scar was still aching, and she turned to them with a fierce glare. Jon saw her face and knew what she was thinking, so he jumped down from the stage, practically storming over to her.

"Lyanna, don't do this..."

"They killed me too, not just you Jon," she replied sharply. "They killed me, made my son an orphan and my husband a widow, so I have just the same right to get justice as you,"

Jon swallowed, thinking it over, and then nodded. He moved to stand behind her, though keeping a distance from Rey, still looking warily at her. Lyanna turned to face the traitors, and as they looked at her face, their eyes moving down to her neck, decorated by the jagged cut stitched up, she saw their expressions grow more fearful.

"You killed Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, your brother in arms, but you also made the mistake of killing me," she addressed them. "Jon may be my brother, but I am not as merciful as him. I, Lyanna of houses Stark, Targaryen and Tyrell, daughter of Brandon Stark and Ayrella Targaryen sentence you to die. Dracarys,"

For the first time in her life, she had openly announced her mother and her father. There was no going back. All the rumours were now marked as true, but for once, Lyanna didn't care as she watched her dragon engulf those that had harmed her and Jon in a cloud of flames. Their screams made some around her flinch, but not her. She was a Targaryen, a dragon, and now everyone knew, and now most likely everyone was comparing her to the mad king, though that was something she didn't have time to think about.

Jon looked at her almost fearfully. His little sister, the one who had always been just as good at swinging a sword as him, the one who had been torn away from him at fourteen, had just proved herself strong, stronger than anyone else he knew, even Ygritte. She was so determined, so focused, but when she looked at him, he saw the girl he had grown up with, the one he used to sneak out of the castle with to go on rides, the one who would joke about their misfortune as bastards, the one who had cried and wished herself dead at her betrothal. She had been bent and tortured so much in their years apart, and here she was, burning down their enemies, leaving him to see only one solution, one path.

His hands began to remove the heavy fur cloak from around his shoulders. The fur had brought him nothing but misfortune anyway, he thought, as he tossed it in the fire. Lyanna glanced over at him in shock and worry, and so did Dolorous Edd, who ran over to him, about ready to call him mad.

"My watch has ended," Jon said simply, and turned away, walking back off into the castle to pack up his things to set off to take their home back.

***

Word count: 1889

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LYANNA'S NOT DEAD SO YOU GUYS DON'T NEED TO HATE ME ANYMORE!

Please comment and vote, thank you for reading!
~Olivia