Lyanna was tired of the warlock's tricks, and she had only been in one of their rooms. Seeing her mother and father had taken a toll on her, making her too exhausted and drained to continue, but yet the door from the Winterfell room led straight back into another enchantment, one which Lyanna was less glad to see.

The Royal quarters of the Red Keep looked just the same in this bewitchment than the real deal, even the wooden detailing on the bed posts. One difference however was that instead of the Baratheon stag and Lannister lion being engraved on everything, she saw three headed dragons, each with two Stark wolves either side of the Targaryen sidgil. This subtle change made Lyanna see how the warlocks of this house were trying to affect her; they had given her the past which could have been, and now a future which could be.

She didn't even know why she was doing this why these warlocks wanted Winter. Dany's dragons she could understand, but Winter? She was just a dire wolf, rare maybe, but beyond the wall in the coldest areas there were packs of them, so why would they care so much about Winter?

Lyanna's thoughts were interrupted by the heavy door being opened, a tall, dark haired young man walking in. Expecting for this new arrival to notice her, she stiffened slightly, before smiling slightly. However, he didn't notice her, walking right on by to the window, gazing out at the city. It was like she was a ghost, a phantom, just an observer in this world. Knowing she wouldn't be seen or heard, Lyanna followed the man to the window, trying to look at his face.

He was a Stark, she knew immediately. He looked like the man she had just walked away from, her father. There were differences though, as his nose and jaw line were smaller slightly - only slightly - his eyes shining grey, almost silver. He had a mop of wavy dark hair, covering his sizeable ears, though Lyanna could tell that this man was stressed, as he kept running his hands though his hair.

Man. Why she kept referring to him in that way she didn't know, as he only looked about Sansa's age, though he seemed to wear more responsibility in the way he stood, the leather armour he wore, the sword at his belt, the frown on his face. He looked almost to tears, before pulling the sword out of its sheath, looking at the sword with pride. So he should have pride, as the sword he was holding was Ice.

How did this boy have Ice? Who was he? Was this meant to be a son of Robb's maybe, after he defeated Joffrey and took the Iron Throne? Robb didn't want the throne, but maybe he reserved it for one of his children? Even then, why would there be Targaryen sidgils all over the room?

"Are you looking at that sword again?" A voice behind them said. The two of them turned around the see a woman, at maximum in her late twenties, thick silver hair flowing down her back. It was clearly a much older Daenerys.

"I do, every time I miss home," he said, his eyes not leaving the blade. Dany came over and put her hands on his shoulders supportively. "I feel like I shouldn't be here, I'd be bringing back my father's reign. I- I can't do that... I'll turn into him..."

"You never truly knew your father, how could you turn into a man you never knew?" Dany asked gently, guiding his hand to slide the sword back into his belt.

"It's in my blood. Mother has told me all the stories, about the Lannister's and their time here in King's Landing. I know I'll end up like him, and I don't want to be him," the man was almost breaking down at his words, and even a lump was forming in Lyanna's throat.

"You are not Joffrey Baratheon-Lannister. You are far better than him, just by the fact that you don't like him. Your mother is the greatest and strongest woman I know, and she wouldn't ever let you grow up to be like him,"

"He hurt her, I know he did," the man interrupted, just as Lyanna began piecing it all together. Her heart was beating fast. "She never tells me that side, but I've heard the workers around here say stories about what he did to her, what he had done to her, what he was going to have done to me,"

"You've been trained to fight well, and you know how to rule a kingdom wisely. You're also smart, strong, caring and brave, none of the features your father possessed. Your mother taught you everything you need to know about being King, but also everything you need to know about being a good man. You'll be a good King, and you'll make your mother so proud Brandon,"

Brandon. She was right. It was Brandon. Her son. Her boy. This would have been him, if not for Joffrey. All of her insides felt like wild fire, and she wanted to throw up but also burst into tears. They've shown her two Brandon's, but this one was different. This was what could have been. This was the man he son could have been, if he wasn't murdered. He would have been so handsome, so good. Good seemed like a stupid word, but it seemed to sum everything about him up.

'I must memorise his face,' she thought, almost desperately. 'Everything. His voice, his stance, his height. Everything,'

She wished she could touch him. She wanted to feel his face, stroke his hair, do everything that her parent's had just done to her, but in here it was like she didn't exist. Ironic, since in the real world, it was the other way around.

Lyanna watched with envy as Daenerys pulled Brandon into a tight hug, him resting his chin on her shoulder. He was her son, she should be the one to hug him, to tell him he's nothing like his father, who was a vicious, spoilt monster.

"I love you," she managed to say weakly, despite knowing she would remain unheard. "I will always love you. You were my boy, my little son, and I will always be proud of you, and the man you should have become," As she reached her hand out, to try and touch his face, the images around he disappeared, and she was alone in nothing but darkness.

Not knowing what to do, Lyanna crouched down onto he knees, and closed her eyes. She hated the dark, so at least by closing her eyes she was in darkness by her own choice. Her mind was filled with images of her parents, and her son. As memories of Brandon came back into her mind, she remembered the night he was born, the night she was attacked, the night she killed her first man. All these thoughts began to form one question; 'why did Baelish want her and her son dead?'

"Isn't it obvious?" a voice said into the darkness, the voice of Peytr Baelish himself, though she knew it wasn't really him, just another trick. "You are a Targaryen, the King wanted Targaryen's dead. I never meant for them to kill you, only your son, and by the time the King would be back, I would tell the King the news of your blood status, and that I destroyed his much hated dragon spawn, but left one for him. The reward for making the King happy would be immense. He did love killing, and he hated Targaryen's,"

"You got what you wanted. My son is dead. I'll never see him grow into the man I just saw. But how does it feel, knowing that it wasn't because of you? Brandon's dead, but you get nothing out of it," she almost sneered, grinning slightly, though she felt tears threatening. "Now why am I here, why do you have Winter?"

The voice shifted. It was deeper, and Lyanna knew she'd heard it before, at Xaro's party when she first met Dany. It was the voice of one of the warlocks, not that it scared her. The warlock's had shown her enough, she was bored of their tricks, and just wanted answers.

"There's power in the north, you know it, you've lived there," it spoke down to her. "The old Gods, the others, the children of the forest, three eyed ravens, wargs, dire wolves,"

"Dire wolves aren't magic, and those things aren't real, they belong in Old Nan's stories," she jeered, despite actually believing him. The moment she agreed with the warlocks was the moment she would lose.

"We need her,"

"I need her more," She shot back at the voice, glaring through the darkness. "She killed people for me, what makes you think I wouldn't do the same for her?"

It was true. She owed Winter a life debt. The dire wolf had brought her more happiness than she could remember. Back in the time of being a bastard, having a dire wolf meant she was still part of the family, even if she was called Snow.

"Give me her back, and give me reality," she said firmly, trying not to sound like she was begging. To make sure, she stood, pulled her hair out of it's braid, before pulling her sword out in one swift movement.

"In exchange for yourself, we will give you your direwolf," the voice bargained, but Lyanna began to laugh.

"What good is that? Did you not want Winter at all? Was it me you wanted? Because you could have asked. I mean, the answer would have been no, but it would have been nice to be asked," she joked.

"We need her, and we need you," the voice said again, sounding more demanding.

"How about we make a deal?" Lyanna asked, as several candles began to flicker alight in the room. "You need me because I'm from the north, but Old Nan used to tell me that warlocks only used blood for their spells. So, you bring winter out here, and you can have all the blood you want,"

There was a hissing noise which Lyanna guessed was their noise of contentment.

"Agreed," they finally said. "Remove all your weapons, we want no tricks,"

"Funny, coming from you little shits," she mumbled as she laid Ice on the floor, taking her dagger off her back, and her knives out of her boots. "Done. Now bring me my wolf," she called.

A door opened, practically appearing from nowhere and three warlocks made their way inside, one of them holding a thick chain around Winter's neck. At the sight of Lyanna, the wolf began to whine, her ears flicking in happiness.

"Let go of the chain," she said firmly, kneeling again to be on Winter's level. She didn't make eye contact; they weren't worth that.

"Your blood first," the demanded.

"Fine," she said, picking up one of the small knives she'd put on the floor.

'For Winter,' she thought, clenching her teeth together as she held out her palm, poking the knife into the centre with just enough pressure to draw blood. It was the tiniest of spots, but the smell make her feel sick, and the warlocks could smell it too. The warlocks in front of her seemed to hiss, practically running to her, taking hold of her arm.

One of them grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling it closer to him, leaning over to sniff her blood on her hand. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she shoved the knife into his exposed throat with her free hand. He made a slight croaking noise of pain, his hands releasing her as they went to his sliced throat, before flopping to the ground, coughing up his life blood.

Before the remaining two could attack her, she threw the knife at one, and it struck him in the eye. He jumped back, before slumping against the stone wall behind him. The last one had a flicker of fear in his eyes, but before he could do anything in retaliation, Lyanna had rose and kicked him in the stomach. The impact caused him to let go of the chain around Winter's neck, and before he could realise what he'd done, the direwolf had turned on him, and tore out his throat.

Not even bothering to clean her kill, Winter padded over to Lyanna, who knelt again, and began licking her bleeding hand whilst all Lyanna could do was stop herself from crying as she buried her face into the wolf's fur, holding her tight.

"Never leave my side again," she mumbled, pressing kisses onto the wolf's head. "I love you, you fierce little beast," Winter licked Lyanna's face in response, howling slightly, a noise she used to make when playing with her brothers and sisters.

"Now come on, lets get out of here," Lyanna smiled, pulling the chain off Winter's neck. She stood and began walking to the door.

However, as a fleeting glance, she looked over to where her son had once stood. Even if he had been just a vision, he had been there. Sighing, she smiled. It had been the first time she had thought of her son without wanting to cry.

'Be brave,' she thought as she left. 'Be brave, my Brandon. Have honour, be brave, and I will always be proud,'

***

Word Count: 2250

***

Hey guys.

Sorry for the slow update but I've got a bit of writers block. I've found I always struggle around this time in the year writing though due to school so this is really no surprise to me at all, except it may be a while until I upload again. I'm really sorry!

I've noticed a lot more readers lately, a lot more people adding this to various reading lists and it makes me so happy! I can't believe so many people like this little old story that I came up with in the last few weeks of year 10!

I love all my readers so much, so please keep reading my stuff, and please leave me a vote and comment!

~Olivia