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The Humiliation of Lyanna Mormont	By : Meowshi Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 13433 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire, nor any of the characters from these series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Upon seeing the girl’s utter degradation, Lady Sansa Stark fell onto her knees as the trauma of her own deflowering played fresh in her mind. Though her husband, Ramsay Bolton, was no longer amongst the living, she was still haunted by his cruel touch. Her waking and slumbering hours were filled with specters of the cruel lord, and sometimes she could feel his fat little fingers pressing into the neck still. She was left lying on the ground, feeling utterly helpless against the devastation that had been inflicted upon her. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand touch hers and was lifted up by Prince Theon Greyjoy, who had also suffered at the hands of her late husband. She looked into his haunted eyes and saw a reflection of her own pain. The disfigured princeling gave the girl a faint smile, though his eyes remained distant, and he bid her to follow him down into the safety of the crypts.
“Come sister,” he said warmly, “This is no place for a lady.”
She accepted his hand with gratitude and allowed herself to be escorted off of the battlefield.
Sandor Clegane just stayed where he was and crossed his arms, not even bothering to reach for his own sword. A man too cowardly to defend his own family from disgrace and humiliation was no man to be afeared of.
“Don't!” Arya Stark commanded in a voice that surprised everyone in the room with its firmness and strength. “There will be no bloodshed between the living here today,” she said, fixing Jorah Mormont with a hard look.
“And you,” she continued, spinning on the Hound, “Shut up or go somewhere where no one has to hear your shit.”
The two men stared at each other with hatred in their eyes before the Hound finally stomped off.
Lyanna lay motionless on the frozen ground of the courtyard, her labored breathing letting out tortured gasps. Even if she had been able to haul herself up off the snow-covered dirt, there was nowhere for her to escape. The entrance to Winterfell had been barred the second the giant had grabbed her and the defenders on the wall knew that any attempt to rescue her would trigger the wights into action again. They weren't scared to fight the creatures, but they were hesitant to do so before they had a chance to catch their breaths. The living needed rest, but the dead did not. So Lyanna simply laid there in the snow, naked and shivering, waiting to see if she would be mercifully put out of her misery or be allowed to live on as the disgraced, raped whore of a fallen house. She knew which option she preferred.
I will never be accepted on Bear Island again. I got my men-at-arms slaughtered with my cowardice and then lost my ability to produce an heir in front of the entire north. At best, they will lock me up in a tower until I name a new lord, and then allow me to live out the rest of my days rotting away as a forgotten spinster. I would rather die on my feet, like my mother and sisters before me—if only I could manage to stand.
Lyanna felt the familiar tingling in her mind and looked up to see the Night’s King staring down at her with cold malevolence. She didn't even bother trying to fight his presence this time. She had no more secrets to hide from him or anyone else.
“Fret not, young bear,” the corpse-king said mockingly as he reached down to caress her tear-streaks cheek, “For you shalt not tread upon thy homeland anew. And when my relentless fury hath reduced it to naught but ruins, your Bear Island shall cease to exist, erased from the annals of time. Farewell, my lady.”
The Night’s King raised its arm and the giant wight that had been standing immobile for the entire duration of Lyanna’s violation suddenly shuddered as a cruel mockery of life reentered it. It bent low and wrapped its fingers around Lyanna’s tiny body, picking the naked girl up from the snow and raising her dozens of feet into the air. As it has been forced to claw its way out of its own grave, the creature's hands were still encased in the snaking tree roots that had held it fast in the ground. They pinched and poked Lyanna's sensitive flesh as she rolled around in the giant's massive hands. The giant simply wanted to plop her into its mouth and grind her into a delicious pink paste, but the Night’s King would not allow him to do so. Following his master's unspoken command, he lowered the whimpering girl to his waist and tore off his soiled loincloth.
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The Humiliation of Lyanna Mormont