Teaser for A Hungry Dragon (Patreon)

Today is my birthday, so I decided to publish this small teaser. I hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter 1 (The Lady of Winterfell)

Snow

She used to watch the snow fall for hours when she had been a little girl, a book on her lap she would get lost in for hours, resting on the ledge of the window, she would watch the snow fall, hear the wind outside and read books about the Age of Heroes.

But time was a cruel mistress; it kept moving on, the snow fell, it melted, and the dog she had when she was young grew up; she became fierce, her favorite dog. Her father had many hunting dogs, but Lacrima was her favorite. Her father used to say she would become their best hunting dog.

On the first hunt, her father returned, carrying Lacrima's body with a sled. A bear had gotten them. Lacrima had protected her father fearlessly, but the bear had shown no mercy. But the bear had been busy feasting on her to notice the axe swinging down on her head from her father.

Despite her father's wishes, Lyarra had grabbed a shovel and buried her dog herself. In the place just outside the walls, a place she loved to play with the other dogs they had.

They lived deep into the mountains. Their castle wasn't the fiercest in the North, but the way it was built, many considered it hard to be conquered. Her father had made sure to teach her hunting. She had been five name days when her father took her on the first hunt. With her crimson bow and arrow, she had killed four rabbits. She had wanted to hunt a deer she had seen, but her father had stopped her, telling her.

'My little girl. In nature all animals eat other animals to survive, that's how it has worked for thousands of years, even before the First Men, but animals hunt only as much as they need. Remember this, you already got four rabbits. That deer will run free, and possibly have children. Never hunt more than you need.'

But time kept moving; it never stopped, and it could never be stopped. Lyarra remembered when her father told her they were invited to Winterfell.

She remembered her first time meeting Rickard Stark, her first cousin; she had slapped him after he had insulted her, saying she was no different than the Wildlings beyond the Wall because she didn't eat properly.

But eventually, throughout the years, as they got to know each other, she started seeing him in a new light; she remembered him going to her home for the first time. He had apologized to her for calling her a 'Wildling' because they lived in the Mountains. Lyarra had accepted his apology.

One day, they were betrothed; Lyarra still remembered the first time she laid her eyes on Brandon. Her baby boy. She had thought to herself. 'How can a baby be so beautiful?

Now, as she walked through the snow, her feet effortlessly sliced through it like a hot knife. She felt like a ghost walking through the halls of the place she had called home for many years. She wanted to hear Brandon's voice and Rickard's snarky remarks. She wanted to see her precious little girl ride her horse, her laughter echoing through the walls.

Setting foot on the Crypts of Winterfell, she could feel the eyes of the past Starks, the Kings of Winter, their status judging her. At the foot of the stairs were the statues of two of the biggest Direwolves of House Stark.

Sōna and Morghon

The statues did them no justice; Sōna and Morghon were said to be giants amongst Direwolves, beasts that could never be truly tamed.

As she strode across the Crypts, their eyes watched her every move; she could almost see their stone eyes moving. Rickard used to say that a man could not lie in the Crypts; if they did, they would be punished, but she ignored them.

The Dead Couldn't Talk.

Soon, she felt the eyes of the man she loved and, Brandon. She had heard tales as much as poor Benjen tried to stop the spread of the words she had heard from Lady Poole's mouth if her words were to be believed.

The Mad King had made a spectacle when he had executed her most precious people; he had laughed as her poor boy strangled himself to death trying to save his father from being cooked alive inside his armor. Lyarra closed her eyes, and a suppressed sob escaped her lips, tears welling up. Her mind conquered images of Brandon and Rickard. She could almost hear their screams.

Her eyes looked at the stone face that was supposed to be her son. His sword was as it always had been by his side, and his father was standing next to him. He, too, was stone. Cold and Dead. They were no more, and she was left alone. Waiting for the arrival of her daughter and Ned. If Gods were good, her precious daughter would still be alive.

Her walk outside the crypts felt like a fever dream until she heard from Tami Snow that Lord Stark was returning home. Lyarra moved faster than she thought capable of moving; she had run to the gates with the guard following her. She saw Lady Catelyn and Lady Poole had gathered, one holding Robb Stark, who was covered in clothes to keep him warm.

Her grey-dark eyes caught sight of Ned riding in the front; he looked nothing like the little boy she remembered; he looked older, almost like his father, with dark bags under his eyes, and he seemed skinnier than she remembered, but as she tried to see where her daughter was...

Her heart froze; she couldn't see Lyanna anywhere, and when her eyes caught sight of a wagon carrying a large wooden box with blue flowers on top. Her heart froze, and tears rolled down her cheeks; it took everything for her not to scream or sob in front of everyone.

Her precious daughter was gone.

Crypts

Lyarra looked at Lyana's stone face. She had mourned for her daughter, for her precious daughter, for four days now.

Someone Lyarra loved the most out of all her children. Her father always told her that using a sword and riding horses weren't things she needed to learn, but Lyarra had always talked him down, reminding him how she was raised and that Lyanna could learn whatever she wanted. Lyarra had always given her daughter all the Freedom she wanted, sometimes perhaps a little too much Freedom.

Once, her daughter had thrown mud at Brandon using a sling from a secret place she used quite often to not be noticed by guards and servants, but when questioned if she knew who did it, Lyanna had said that a servant had done that instead.

The servant was sent out of Winterfell the next day after spending a night in the dark cells without food; when Lyarra learned that her daughter had done that, she forced her daughter to publicly apologize to her brother in the main hall of Winterfell to let everyone know that she was the one who threw the mud, not the servant.

Lyanna loved to make fun of people, but sometimes, she went a little far with her antics until Lyarra had a long conversation with her. After that day, Lyanna grew up to become a gentler person who helped other people, and that's how she was all the way to the end.

She remembered when Lyanna had told her that she wanted nothing to do with Robert. That he wasn't the one for her. Lyarra had promised her daughter to change her father's mind like she had done so many other times, but Rickard's mind was set: their daughter would marry Robert Baratheon, whether she liked it or not, and Ned considered the boy like his own brother, she had screamed and threatened, but her husband had not changed his mind.

No matter how many times she talked with him, it never worked. She told him that his daughter's happiness was worth more than whatever alliance he wanted to make, but Rickard did not listen, not on this one.

And Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped her daughter; Lyarra was sure there was more to it; she had heard her daughter drop a few comments about the Prince in secret. Lyarra knew her daughter liked the Prince, so the whole Kidnapping thing did not make sense to her; the same night she had told Rickard that their daughter wasn't kidnapped, her husband had agreed with her, but in the middle of their conversation, a guard had walked inside, informing them that Brandon Stark has left for King's Landing, to take Rhaegar's head.

After executing Rickard and Brandon Stark, The Mad King had called for the heads of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, and with the rumors of Rhaegar kidnapping Lyanna Stark spreading everywhere. That's when the Rebellion started. There was no other choice: either the King was dead, or her son would be burned alive or strangled.

She had hoped to see her daughter again, but the fate was cruel. Her face was stone, just like her brother and father; at least she was with them now.

Because of her mourning, Lyarra barely paid attention to the baby her son had brought to Winterfell. But Lady Poole had told her his name was Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard.

Lyarra was perplexed to hear that her son had a bastard son; it didn't sound like Ned. Her son had told her he was seeing Lady Ashara Dayne during the Tourney, but Lyarra knew that Ned would never lay with the woman unless they were married.

Upon hearing that, Lyarra found Ned in the crypts, and together, they prayed for Lyanna, Brandon, and Rickard. After praying, they both walked to God's Wood, a place she often visited with Rickard; now she was with Ned.

Ned looked much older than his years; he seemed as if he had aged a decade since the last time she saw him before the Rebellion. Lyarra took him in her arms, his head resting on her shoulder as she kissed his forehead tenderly while stroking his back, something she used to do with Lyanna whenever she was afraid.

"I missed you, my dear boy." She said gently; Ned sighed, almost in relief.

"I'm happy to see you too, mother. I missed you." His words felt like daggers in her heart. They both sat together on the foot of the Weirwood Trees, and for the longest time, they sat there, saying nothing to one another.

Ned asked about Benjen. Lyarra explained that Benjen wasn't doing well, but she had talked to him and helped him. Benjen had wanted to join the Night's Watch, but Lyarra had threatened him, saying that the day he joined the Watch, she would throw herself from the old tower of Winterfell after a lot of screaming between one another. Benjen vowed in front of the Weirwood Tree that he wouldn't join the Watch; only then Lyarra had allowed him out of her sight.

Soon, they both left the God's Wood.

"Ned, what happened with Lyanna? I want to know everything?" Lyarra eventually demanded. She wanted to know how all this mess started; for so many days, she had thought to herself that if she had done something different, something would have changed, but her father's words echoed in her ears, words he had said to her after her mother's death.

'Never waste time on what ifs. You think if I had known this or that, something would have changed. It's over. The past is a lesson, and the future is a test; you should learn from it; if you don't, you will fail again.'

Ned told her that Rhaegar had never kidnapped Lyanna. She had gone with him willingly and had married him in the Isle of Faces under the Old Gods. Ned had found her on her deathbed, dying from a sickness.

After listening to everything he said, Lyarra closed her eyes; her daughter should have talked with her; she should have never just gone with Prince Rhaegar without making sure that she told me, she thought. But, it was Over. She could cry for the dead all day long, but her tears wouldn't bring them back.

"What were Lyanna's last words?" Lyarra's voice cracked, but she forced herself to speak firmly. Her son didn't answer right away; he opened and closed his mouth before finally answering her.

"Promise me, Ned. Promise me."

"...What Promise?"

"That I would bury her in the Crypts," Ned answered reluctantly as they reached the yard before walking upstairs.

"I hear you have a bastard son. Who is the mother?" Lyarra questioned with a little edge on her voice as she looked at Ned like a hawk; she had never expected Ned to have a bastard.

"Her name is Wylla." That's all Ned said, looking away from her, but Lyarra had known him for longer than he had known himself.

Lyarra excused herself; it didn't take long for her to find the infirmary upon stepping inside. She caught sight of Robb Stark's crib; her grandson was sleeping quietly in his small crib, but the sight of his red hair made her frown slightly. She didn't want to admit it, but she would have preferred that he was born looking like a Stark instead of a Southern, but she wouldn't allow herself to love him any less because of something the boy couldn't control.

She looked around the infirmary, but her other grandson was nowhere to be seen; the door opened, and she whirled around to see one of the new Wet Nurses that Lady Tully had brought with her from the South.

"My lady?"

"Where is my grandson?" Lyarra demanded right away, her voice sharp like Valyrian steel.

"He's right behind you, my lady?"

"Do you think me foolish, my lady?" Lyarra continued before the Wet Nurse could answer. "I know it's cold in the North, but I didn't expect your brain to have frozen over already. Now, where is my other Grandson? Jon Snow." At the mention of the name, the wet nurse wrinkled her nose. Lyarra was tempted to slap her across the face, but she let this one slide.

"The basta-" "If you finish that sentence. You will leave Winterfell by tomorrow morrow." Lyarra said sharply before the nurse could finish her word. Lyarra always believed in second chances; if she didn't, then she would have always viewed Rickard as a fool and Lyanna as someone who made fun of people sometimes without thinking of the consequences, but the Wet Nurse was really annoying her right now.

"I was ordered to put him in the other infirmary." Her words made Lyarra glare at her; the wet nurse looked down, her legs shaking now.

"I don't recall my son giving you that order?"

"It was Lady Stark, your grace." Lyarra almost growled in anger. No, this wouldn't do; if it had been her son, then her son was more of a fool than she had thought, but this lady had taken orders from someone who had no power whatsoever in the North besides being Lord Stark's wife.

"Who is the ruler of Winterfell?"

"Your son, Lord Stark." The Wet Nurse answered her voice, cracking and realizing her mistake.

"So why did you accept an order from Lady Tully?" The silence was the only answer she received; the nurse kept her head low, and she whimpered, but Lyarra didn't care.

"I will talk with my son. I can't allow people who accept orders from everyone to work here. Now, Get out of my sight." Lady Stark ordered the wet nurse, who looked on the verge of tears as she left the chamber.

It didn't take long for Lyarra to reach the other infirmary; thankfully, her grandson was the only baby right now in the infirmary.

Lyarra strode towards him; she saw his dark hair sticking out of the clothes wrapped around him. She lifted up the cloth that covered his tiny face; the baby let out a soft cry.

"Shhh, don't worry. Your grandma is here." She cooed softly; his eyes opened upon hearing her voice, and her heart almost dropped from the shock. Bright purple eyes looked back at her and his face; her dark eyes looked at the boy's face; he was just a baby, but he looked so much like Lyanna when she, too, had been a baby.

No, this is... Ned would have never tried to keep this from me, she told herself; as she grabbed her grandson in her arms, she revealed more of his face, his hair dark like a crow; he seemed around four months old.

If her son had laid with this 'Wylla' during the Rebellion, then the boy should be much younger. If Lady Ashara was the mother, the boy would be much older, perhaps eight months old or more. No, only one person could have given birth to Jon Snow.

Lyarra felt her tears rolling down her cheeks like a hot knife; she hugged her grandson, who had stopped crying and was now looking at her strangely. She quickly wiped the tears away before looking down at him once again. He looked so tiny but so beautiful. She nuzzled her nose against his, something she had done only with Lyanna, and just like her, Jon let out a cute giggle.

"You're precious, little one." She whispered softly; she sat there with her grandson in her arms before returning him back to the family's infirmary where he belonged. She wanted to stay longer with him, but she wanted answers from her son, and she wanted them now. Before leaving, she told Jory Cassel to place two guards in the infirmary and not allow anyone to touch Jon.

Upon arriving in his Rickard's solar— her son's solar, she found him reading through pages of the recent wildling attacks, but the moment she entered unannounced, he placed down the letters before addressing her; he seemed exhausted.

"Mother?"

"When were you going to tell me?" Lyarra demanded as she slowly approached him like a wolf; her son's face paled slightly, but he kept his composure.

"About what?"

"You have me believe that Jon is your son, but you lied to me. Why didn't you tell me that he is Lyanna's son?" She demanded, barely keeping herself together; she was furious with him. She understood not telling Lady Fish, but she didn't understand not telling her.

Her son paled; he looked like Maester Luwin in his bad days. Usually, she would feel bad, but right now, she was too furious to care.

"How do you know?" At least he didn't try to lie again, but he knew better than to keep playing the silly game.

"He might be a boy, but I can see the similarities between him and my daughter, the same daughter I raised since she was born. Why didn't you tell me?" Her son remained as silent as a grave. She expected him to say something, but her son remained silent; she understood that he wouldn't say any excuse.

"What is your plan for him? You brought him here, so I'm sure you have a plan for his future." Lyarra questioned; her voice was louder this time, echoing through the walls like a horn. If Ned had wanted to, he could have given the boy to Robert or Tywin, so her son lying about his identity was a start, but now she wanted to know his plan for Jon's future.

"Not right now, but I have been thinking that when he comes of age, he can go to the Wall." His words might as well have been a slap to her face; for a brief moment, she didn't want to believe that her son had said those words.

"To the Wall. You think sending your nephew to the Wall is the best choice?!" She almost shouted in fury, but somehow, she kept herself in control. She always did, but right now, she was furious as she slammed her hands on the table.

"He will be safe there."

"Eddard Stark, you know there's more to life than just living; what is the point when you will spend your whole life not enjoying it? Not being able to live, but just living for the sake of living." Lyarra said with disappointment before turning on her heels and walking to the door.

"The Wet Nurse that your dear wife brought here. I want her out of Winterfell. As for Jon, I will have his crib brought to my chambers."

"Why?"

"Ask your dear wife, Ned," Lyarra said almost mockingly, shaking her head in disappointment before leaving the chamber.

As she made her way to the infirmary. Lyarra had already decided that her grandson would never live his life thinking he was lesser than anyone else. He was the True Born son of her precious Lyanna. She would make sure her son grows strong and healthy and one day. Everyone in Westeros will know his name.

Or the entire World.

Note: I hope you enjoy the teaser of this new Story that I have been thinking and planning for a while.

Upon arriving in Winterfell, Ned introduces his bastard son, Jon Snow. But that night, Lyarra Stark, looks at the boy, and she decides she wouldn't allow her daughter's only child to have nothing in his life. Cunning, ruthless, power-hungry, Jon Snow.

Let me know in the comments what you think his Targaryen name should be.