Jaime:
"Jaime?"
It wasn't adoration, but confusion that his wife greeted him with when Jaime returned to his family's tent. He couldn't fault her for that since they weren't expecting to see him so soon after already leaving for the tourney grounds to prepare for his joust.
"Wife," He responded with a smile, making his way over to her. She was sitting beside his father. Across from and on the other side of Jaime's father was his good brother, Oberyn. The Red Viper wasn't due until later in the lists, so had made himself comfortable with his sister and Jaime's father.
What do they have to talk about? His curiosity and confusion only grew when he saw amusement flash across his father's face at whatever it was Oberyn had just said. It was almost enough to distract him from his pregnant wife, almost.
"I forgot something," he confessed, knowing he made the right decision to return when she smiled at him. The way she glowed, he basked in it, she was brighter than her family's sun.
"What is it that you forgot dear husband?" Elia's Dornish lilt always had an effect on him. She noticed too judging by that small, and playful smirk.
"Your favor."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I've lost count of the number of favors I've given you for this tournament." Still she didn't protest his request. She pulled out an orange ribbon from her dark curls. "Here you are," She tied it to his arm since he was already in his armor. He was one of the first jousts which were drawing near.
"Thank you," He put his hand over hers which was still on his arm. "Thank you for everything," He added when his other hand rested on her swelling stomach.
She leaned in to kiss him.
"Are you trying to make me late, wife?" He was proud at how sharp he sounded after her searing kiss.
Her eyes were sparkling in amusement, but before she could answer him, her golden eyes caught something over his shoulder that dimmed her smile. "Ashara?"
Jaime turned to see Lady Stark. Her violet eyes were unfocused. There were ruffles in her dress and dirt along its hem. "They're still not back?" He stepped aside when he noticed Elia gesturing for Ashara to take the seat beside her.
"No, Ned and Robert have looked all afternoon," once she sat down, Elia grabbed her friends' hands, "They haven't been able to find them anywhere," she revealed. "I had thought they might have stopped here."
"They haven't," Jaime frowned at his friend's predicament. Lyanna, Benjen, and their friend Howland hadn't been seen since after the morning tilts. He knew his friends had gone off several times with men from Robert's retinue to try to find them, but they've all proven to be unsuccessful. "We can lend men," He offered before remembering that he wasn't the Lord of Casterly Rock and said lord was already in the tent with them.
There was hardly a pause before he heard his father's voice. "We can."
He nearly sagged in relief that his father had agreed with him and hadn't tried to correct or chide him in front of everyone. Jaime looked to his father to see he was already watching him expectantly. The message was clear: This is your task, your responsibility to coordinate. "I'll have some men accompany Robert and Ned next time I see them." The only problem was he was not sure when that next time would be. He needed to leave for the tourney grounds or he'd forfeit his joust. Something he had no intention of doing since he still wished to crown his wife the Queen of Love and Beauty.
"You're bleeding!"
Jaime was startled out of his thoughts by his wife's outburst.
There standing in the entrance way of the tent was Ser Gwayne. His white armor and cloak were covered in blood splatters. "It's not my blood, my lady."
"What is the meaning of this?" His father demanded, "Where is my daughter?" Father's eyes were transfixed on the red stains.
"Prince Rhaegar has moved to arrest Prince Daeron." The knight's words led to a swell of raising voices. "He's sent several knights and men to arrest him." Gwayne had to all but shout to finish his message.
Jaime could barely hear his own thoughts over all the noise. Even if he could hear them, how was he to focus on any of them with this revelation. His stomach turned painfully at the idea of his friend being unfairly arrested. The discomfort couldn't hold him for long. It began to melt away to the simmering anger he felt churning at the audacity of Prince Rhaegar's actions. The bards will need to add a few new verses to a particular song.
"They killed the men you had assigned to your daughter, my lord," Ser Gwayne bowed his head to pay his respect, "And I killed the ones they assigned to me." His gloved hand made a brief gesture to one of the many stains on his cloak.
"This," His father's voice was deathly quiet but it brought an immediate hush to the tent, "Will not stand," He slowly stood up, "Where is my daughter?"
Who are you, the proud lord said, Jaime couldn't forget the last ones who tried to defy his father and their family. That I must bow so low.
"She was with Prince Daeron, my lord," Gwayne answered, "They said they were only to arrest the prince."
"They may use her as a hostage," Uncle Kevan had somehow slipped into the room unseen during the commotion or he had already been within and Jaime had missed him. He was not really sure which.
And mine are long and sharp, my lord, Jaime had never seen his father so angry. As long and sharp as yours. For someone who claims to read history, he thought Rhaegar remarkably stupid with his choices. Did he think Father and I would smile and bow when he arrested my friend and made my sister his hostage? "We must go at once, Father."
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall, Jaime understood what was at stake, and not a soul to hear.
"I agree," His father wasn't looking at him, "Kevan, you will assemble the lords and send a message to the guards of our encampment." His hands were leaning on the table, "I expect that we may have company." The golden flecks in his eyes burned with anger. "Rhaegar Targaryen has declared war on House Lannister."
"As well as on House Martell."
Lord Tywin inclined his head towards the Dornish prince. "Jaime, you are to get Prince Daeron and your sister. I will send more knights after you to provide you with horses and to defend your retreat in case Prince Rhaegar sends in more men."
"I was fortunate to have already found Lords Robert and Ned before I reached you," Ser Gwyane informed them, "They're already on their way with their men."
"Then we shouldn't keep them waiting," Jaime was pleased to know that he'd have his friends with him. He'd want no one else, but them by his side.
"Lady Elia," Lord Tywin turned to his good-daughter, "You will leave swiftly with a substantial retinue of my best knights and men-at-arms. You will return to the Rock untouched."
"Thank you, Tywin, but Lady Ashara will also need to be traveling with us," Elia insisted, "Since her husband and his men have already gone in search of Prince Daeron and Lady Cersei."
He didn't raise an issue with it. "Lady Stark is our honored guest." Father's tent seemed full to bursting with so many different guards and servants rushing around trying to follow their new orders.
Ashara Stark gave her thanks to the Lord of Casterly Rock.
Prince Oberyn, who had been talking to one of his attendants, spoke up. "The men we brought will be alerted and will assist you, Lord Tywin in the defense of this encampment if it comes to that and our retreat."
"Thank you, Prince Oberyn," He turned to where a silent Lannister-men-arms had just stepped in.
"Nearly a dozen men are armed and ready to go while more are preparing, Lord Tywin."
"My son will be handling this insult."
"Tell them we're leaving immediately," Jaime didn't watch the Lannister guard leave. He expected small numbers since many of their men were dispersed throughout the encampment or at the tourney grounds. All of whom were preparing to be entertained by an afternoon of tilts, but were now needed to prepare themselves for the threat of battle.
"I will go with you," Ser Gwayne's inclusion surprised none of them.
"I have only a handful with me who are ready to fight."
"The Red Viper is all I really need," Jaime assured his friend, before he turned to his wife. "I'll see you on the road," he promised her with a kiss.
"Be safe," Her hand was warm on his cheek before she sent him off.
The tournament was over, but it seemed the war was just beginning.
It was less than twenty men that followed them.
The numbers did not concern him since he knew more would be on the way. Not to mention, Robert was ahead of them with his own men. Another reason for his calm confidence was of the superior skill that many of them had including Prince Oberyn and Ser Gwayne who were walking beside him as well those ahead of them such as Robert and Prince Daeron. It's not arrogance, he thought, just honesty.
No, all that concerned him was getting to his friend and sister. They had moved unhindered to the grove. Many of the tents were empty and very few were in the encampment. Everyone had traveled towards the castle and the tourney grounds excited for an afternoon of jousting.
They're about to be disappointed, Jaime thought of them, waiting for a joust that will not start. It'll be enough to alert Rhaegar that something is amiss. That observation dimmed his mood, but hurried his steps. Up ahead, he heard shouting, easily recognizing the loudest of them. Jaime smiled despite what they were running into. He turned to two of his men. "You are to go to my sister and guard her. You are to take her away from the fighting, but you will need to be close enough to join us in our retreat when the horses arrive."
They nodded at his orders.
Jaime welcomed the sound of his sword escaping its sheath. He picked up his pace the rest of the way. He pushed aside branches and danced over the roots that snaked under his feet. The voices were getting louder as were the sounds and songs of battle. He saw the light of the grove ahead of them and then with a few more steps he was at its borders. He took the scene in front of him in a long heartbeat and the only word he could use to describe it was chaos.
His eyes scanned the heated fighting between the two sides: He first spotted Prince Daeron, Dark Sister in hand and a pile of Connington men-at-arms at his feet. His friend was now fighting Ser Jonothor Darry. Ser Gwayne had warned them that they'd be facing knights of the kingsguard. Jaime had always wanted to test his skill against them, but this was not what he had in mind. It would not deter him, because he was ready to do what he needed to to save his friend and sister.
It was a different shout that sent his attention frantically flickering in the other direction to see his sister. His heart lurched at what he saw. Cersei was covered in blood. "Go to her," He urged the men he assigned to her. He feared what wounds she had suffered in the attack, but then he saw the bloody tipped dagger in her hand and he realized Cersei was the one doing the attacking.
Next he saw Robert and Ned, where he was relieved to see they looked unharmed, Robert's men-at-arms staving off what looked like more than a dozen men from House Whent. Robert was fighting Lord Commander Hightower who looked to be struggling with the Lord of Storm's End. Ned was crossing swords with a knight who bore no standard.
Jaime raised his sword, "For House Lannister!" He led his men into battle. He heard the cries for House Martell! with Oberyn beside him.
Both sides turned at the noise, Robert welcomed them with a loud roar while his men's spirits were instantly lifted at the reinforcements. They began fighting harder while Rhaegar's men were startled by another wave of fresh men joining the fray.
The first men who fought Jaime came as a blur. He dealt with them swiftly, a flick of the sword to one before the boy could raise his sword. The other only lasted a parry before Jaime found his opening and cut the man's throat. He wasn't even sure which family these men-at-arms he was killing belonged to.
Jaime cut down a Mooton man-at-arms who thought his axe could beat his sword. He was wrong. Jaime's sword put him to the ground where he was quick to send another when he removed the man's head from his shoulders. From behind him he could hear his sister's loud complaints at being taken out of the fighting. She'll forgive me.
Up ahead, he saw his friend's ongoing success. Dark Sister was a steel serpent lashing out in quick strikes that were making Ser Jonothor stumble backwards. His defense was beginning to crumble. He was tiring while Prince Daeron was unrelenting. Another flick of Dark Sister left behind a pool of red in Jonothor's side, the Kingsguard knight groaned.
He had just finished cutting down another Mooton soldier when a blaring peal shook the battlefield. It cut through all other sounds on the battlefield. It was deafening enough to bring a sudden pause to the fighting and had both sides turning to see Robert's warhammer had connected with Hightower's chest plate. The kingsguard knight fell backwards with a crumpled chest.
Sers Jonothor and Oswell stood rooted at the sight of their respected Lord Commander's broken body on the bloody ground. They were not alone in their shock. The sundering strike punctured the spirit of Rhaegar's men just as well as it had the Lord Commander's armor. These men-at-arms had probably been told there would be no fighting to arrest Rhaegar's brother. Something they had quickly learned to be untrue so Hightower's death proved too much for them. The survivors began to run, retreating into the woods. Connington, who had no men left thanks to Prince Daeron was still trying to stop the others from leaving, but he was failing.
"Connington," Prince Daeron called after the stormlord, " Dark Sister still wants her kiss."
He wasn't the only one who wanted the chance to fight the Lord of Griffin's Roost.
"CONNINGTON!" Robert bellowed, "You traitor, I'll crush you!"
That proved to be the incentive Lord Jon Connington needed to flee with what was left of the men he had been given to arrest Rhaegar's brother. Ser Oswell, and a wounded Darry followed, reluctantly abandoning the body of their Lord Commander with the unknown knight behind them. The remainder of their men trickled after to protect their retreat.
"We should leave too," Prince Daeron turned back to them. "I'm sure my brother will be informed quickly of this little failure."
"Agreed," Jaime looked his friend over, "You seem to be in good spirits for a prince who was nearly arrested for treason."
Daeron smiled. "I'm in good spirits because I have good friends." His expression sobered, "You have my thanks all of you," he told them. "I did not want any of this-"
"We know, Cousin," Robert interrupted, "We know this was not the fight you started."
"No, it wasn't, but I will finish it." Daeron agreed, "But if you wish-"
"Enough," This time it was Jaime. "We're not abandoning you," He heard a murmur of agreement from the others. "We're with you to the end, my friend. Do we need to etch it on your chest plate or pin it to your forehead?" Jaime japed, but he meant every word he said.
Daeron chuckled. "No, that will not be necessary." Cersei had somehow slipped her guard and was at his side. Her hand wrapped around his arm. They made for quite the sight, his dear sister covered in the blood of her enemies while Prince Daeron had a pile of bodies at his feet.
"Ser Gwayne, if you follow me," Prince Daeron said to him, "You know what that will mean?"
"Yes, my prince," The knight sounded completely unbothered by it, "I mean, my king," he bowed his head. "It will mean a good story is about to be written in The White Book."
The Tournament at Harrenhal had turned into a battlefield.
They were riding west, swiftly but carefully in case they were being pursued by Rhaegar's men. They had yet to come within sight of any of the outlying castles or roads, so their progress wasn't as ideal as they would've liked. They surprisingly had yet to come in contact with any of his father's men, who had left before them in a party which included his wife. He knew Elia would be well. Father would not let any harm come to his good-daughter especially when she was pregnant with the potential heir to the Rock. Still, it could not stop the worry from sprouting up like stubborn weeds. He did not think he would lay it to rest until he could see her with his own eyes, and have her in his arms.
He looked ahead needing a distraction where he saw Prince Daeron. Is he still a prince or is he a king now? Jaime knew everything was changing. Rhaegar had seen to that.
King or not, he saw his friend up ahead, riding with Robert and Cersei. The often boisterous Lord of Storm's End was more subdued while he regaled them with a story from his time in the Vale. Prince Oberyn rode right behind, sprinkling his own commentary throughout the retelling. The only one absent besides himself was Ned, who was riding beside Jaime. His friend was solemn and silent.
Ned had not wanted to leave Harrenhal because of his missing siblings, with Robert being just as reluctant but Daeron all but ordered it. He was afraid of what his brother might do if they were caught in the name of retribution. He'll call you traitors and, He didn't need to finish for them to understand their fate if they were caught. More than once he glanced over his shoulder towards where the pillars of smoke were rising in the sky, and his grey eyes betrayed where his own heart and worries were.
"They're safe, Ned," Jaime tried to comfort his friend. "I've seen your sister with a sword," He then tried to jape, "She'd surprise any man who thought her weak."
"The wolf's blood," Ned said softly, "That's what my father called it." He was still looking behind, "I should go back." His grip on his reins made his knuckles go white. "I can't abandon them."
"Lyanna and Benjen wouldn't want you to get killed." He pointed in that direction. "Perhaps, Rhaegar puts you in the Black Cells as a hostage or perhaps his father decides you're a traitor for thwarting Daeron's arrest."
Ned sighed. He looked like he was fighting off a headache. "She picked the wrong time to follow her wolf blood."
"Indeed, I'm just thankful my family doesn't have such a thing. I mean lion's blood?" He asked, "What would that even be?"
His friend's smile was weak, but it was there.
"Riders!" A voice called ahead.
"Banners?" Jaime demanded, but the question proved unnecessary since all around them, riders were appearing before them until they were now completely encircled.
Daeron made a noise in the back of his throat before grumbling about finding himself being surrounded again.
"Form up!" Jaime ordered his men into a defensive position, but the riders who approached them moved no closer besides the loose circle to envelop them. They drew no weapons. They just kept their places.
"No need for that, lad," Jaime turned to see the riders parting for someone and while the voice was familiar, there was no mistaking the face. It was Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. Behind him the banners of House Tully were flying by two riders.
"Ser Brynden?"
"Aye," He leaned forward in his saddle looking them over. "You may be good soldiers, but you're shitty scouts," he gestured to his men to break their formation. They did, before reforming behind the Blackfish in two rows, "You need to be aware of your surroundings especially now," He gave Daeron a pointed look.
"You are right, Ser Brynden," Daeron didn't try to argue. "May I ask if there is another reason why you've come upon us besides teaching me the crafts of war?" His words may have sounded sarcastic, but he wore an earnest expression while his tone remained respectful.
Brynden snorted. "Aye, I did." He held up a piece of parchment, but he was looking at Jaime. "My brother has invited you all to Riverrun. That's where your father and wife and the rest of my brother's men are going."
"Lord Tully?" Daeron didn't try to hide his surprise. "He wants an audience with us?"
"Yes," the Blackfish encouraged his horse to approach Jaime when he was close enough he handed him the folded piece of parchment.
Jaime took it with a nod and opened it up.
"What does it say?"
"It says don't ask questions," Jaime replied to his sister. He could feel her responding glare, but his attention was on his father's writing. It was brief, but it did include his father's seal. "He's going to Riverrun." Lord Tully wants something, Jaime realized after getting over his initial confusion at such an unexpected invitation.
"Then we ride to Riverrun," Daeron decided before turning to Ser Brynden, "We'd be honored for the escort."
"If you mean will you please insure that we don't ride into an enemy's trap, then aye, I'll take you there," The Blackfish's words were rough, but his smile belayed it.
Daeron chuckled. "It's an honor to ride beside you again, Ser Brynden."
"No need for that," He waved it away, "I already said I'm riding with you."
"Then after you, Ser Brynden," Daeron deferred to the knight. "We shouldn't keep Lord Tully waiting."
Barristan:
It was the smoke he saw first.
Barristan had seen it from his window inside the Harrenhal castle. He had been preparing to leave for the jousts, but the sight of smoke made him stop at once.
This was not the smoke of campfires surrounded by festive men, eating and drinking. No, these were plumes of heavy black smoke. This was the smoke of battle.
He felt something cold touch the back of his neck at that observation- Battle? It couldn't be, he tried to dismiss it since he couldn't see formations or fighting, only flames. Something was wrong.
That was when he left. He was not the only one surprised by what was happening. The castle corridors were filled with panicking guards and fleeing servants. Barristan paid them no mind. He went right to where he was supposed to go. He went right to his king's chambers.
It was not a long walk, but it felt like an eternity taking it.
What is happening? He kept his hand on his sword. It served as his anchor to keep him from getting lost in the fear and desperation that was sweeping through the castle like a storm. It kept him from letting his thoughts carry him away towards things that were not his to think of.
I am a sword. I am a knight.
That was what he told himself. That was what he'd say when certain thoughts began to bubble up. He'd reduce his world to keep it all out. It's only me and my sword.
The doors were in front of him. The two Targaryen guards on duty straightened up at his appearance, but before he could even reach the door, it opened to show Prince Rhaegar Targaryen walking out.
"My prince," Barristan bowed his head. "Outside its-"
"I'm aware," The Prince replied calmly. His tone was almost serene.
"What's happening?" Barristan asked. "Where's the King?" He tried to look over Rhaegar's shoulder, but the prince blocked him, stepping aside while a bland smile came to his face. The doors promptly closed.
"My father is in one of his moods," Rhaegar answered delicately, "He'll be leaving shortly. He is returning to the capital. Where he will be safe and well looked after."
"What about Prince Daeron?" Barristan didn't think he'd seen him since the morning tilts and that had been hours ago.
"My brother?" Rhaegar sighed. "He has made a mistake."
"A mistake?" The dread was growing in his stomach. "What sort of mistake?"
"He's betrayed the crown, Ser Barristan," Rhaegar answered softly, "Not only that, but he's betrayed our father, our mother, Viserys, his nephew," The Crown Prince listed them all off, "And he's betrayed me."
Barristan had already been shaking his head while Rhaegar was talking. He didn't believe it. He didn't understand it. He felt something shift in his chest. "You," He had said it so softly, he didn't think the prince could hear, but he was wrong.
"Me?" Rhaegar sounded amused, "What do you mean, Ser Barristan?"
"Where is Prince Daeron?"
"He's fled," Rhaegar answered, "The guilty always do."
I never should've come up here, that was what he heard the voice say. I should've left the castle, ran towards the fighting. That's what I know. I could fight. That's how I help. This was the voice and the words he always told himself when forced to think. He always chose to look away.
It's not my role, he'd say, The Game of Thrones is not my battlefield.
He chose the easy thing to do. It was easier to follow an order then it was to refuse it. It was easier to comply then question. He didn't think about what he was told to do, he just did it. All the while, he'd tell himself, that he was a good man, a good knight. Only now was he beginning to see how wrong he was.
"You did this," he shook his head, "You."
How long did I wait to serve the man before me? How long did I tell myself that this would be the king to serve. When Aerys raped his wife, and Barristan stood outside that door, he told himself, Rhaegar will be the king to give me back my honor. Rhaegar will be the king we need. The king I need.
It was all unraveling before him and his stomach lurched painfully.
I saw what I wanted to see. I wanted a great king so I made him a great king, but he isn't.
He was looking at Rhaegar, at the prince who he thought would be a great king, one of the greatest, but seeing him now he saw none of that. There was no pride or hope. He just felt sick.
"Why are you doing this?" Barristan's head began to pound, but he pushed away the pain.
"You could not possibly understand," Rhaegar gently chided him if he was a child and not a knight of the kingsguard.
"The prophecy?" Barristan in his heart knew the answer before he ever asked. "You'd risk everything over the words of some woods witch?" When he said the words out loud, he realized just how ridiculous it all sounded that he actually laughed.
Rhaegar's mouth formed a thin line. "I would not expect a knight to understand the burdens of the Crown," his voice had gone colder.
"He could've been your Aemon Dragonknight, but instead you made him your Daemon Blackfyre."
Something angry flashed across Rhaegar's face at Barristan's words, before it was smoothed away. "Will you stand with me, Ser Barristan?"
"No, my prince," He undid the clasps of his white cloak. "I will not."
The fabric fell to the ground. The guards in front of him were pulling out their swords.
Barristan's was already out of its sheath when Rhaegar's voice stopped them all.
"No," the Crown Prince ordered, "Sheathe your swords." He told his guards before turning back to him. He saw his confusion since a small smile played on his lips. "I'm not a fool. I order these men forward and you'll kill them without breaking a sweat." He ignored the shifting of his guards. It was hard to tell if they were relieved or insulted by Rhaegar's observation. "You saved my father once."
"I did," Barristan had thought he had done the right thing. He had saved his king. Then he'd stand outside his chambers and hear the Queen's whimpering or he stood in the throne room watching men consumed by green flames. I should've failed, a dangerous thought and a secret he told no one.
Rhaegar would've become king. That was what he told himself. Those words watering the seeds of doubt that were rooting in his heart. And all would've been better, but now…
He looked up at Rhaegar Targaryen.
I was wrong to think that.
"A life for a life, Ser Barristan. You saved my father so I will save yours."
He looked at the prince carefully. "You will let me leave even if I go to your brother?"
"Yes, but know this," Rhaegar answered simply, "I will not offer this again, Ser Barristan. There will be no clemency once my brother and his allies are stopped. If you wish to throw away the gift I give you then so be it."
"I do," He didn't hesitate.
Rhaegar pointed past Barristan, "Then go."
He did and he never looked back.
Barristan had not gotten too far when he heard the shouting.
He was trying to leave this cursed and ruined castle when he stopped at the sound. It wasn't far, he looked down the corridor, and was certain they were near. He kept going forward, this time more alert.
It was when he heard the second shout did he know which door to open and he did. He saw two boys, one was on the floor, the other was standing in front of him to protect him from the two guards approaching them. The boy tried to stop them, but one of the guards pushed him to the ground. The guards were laughing.
That was all Barristan needed to see before sliding into the room. His sword was already out and was through the first guard before the men knew what had happened. They weren't laughing now.
"What the-?"
Barristan's sword interrupted that question when he put his sword through the second man's throat. He let out a wet gasp. His eyes widened before his body stilled. The body crumpled in a heap when he withdrew his sword.
He was about to turn to the boys he saved, but the yellow tunics the men were wearing stopped him. There was something familiar to them. Old memories were bubbling up of battles fought long ago, he checked their arms and that confirmed his suspicion. He saw one man had seven golden arm rings clamped to his left arm while the other man had five.
The Golden Company. He hadn't seen their ilk since the Stepstones. He didn't, but Barristan already knew his answer of what the crown prince was capable of before he was interrupted.
"Ser Barristan?"
The voice was of a woman which made him pause. He turned to the two boys on the floor to discover, one of them wasn't a boy. She was only dressed as one. In dirty brown trousers and a muddy grey tunic, Lyanna Stark was getting to her feet. She looked tired and sad. She had been the one who had gotten shoved. The boy beside her he recognized as her brother, Benjen.
"Lady Lyanna?" Barristan looked between them and then the Golden Company sellswords on the ground. "What happened?"
There was redness around her eyes. "We were taken."
"Prince Rhaegar?" Barristan could not believe how far the prince was falling.
"Yes," she answered in a snarl that would've made the Stark sigil proud. "They found us." She hesitated, some of the fire leaving her eyes, "And-" She paused, looking anywhere but at them.
"They took Howland," Benjen's voice cracked, "They found us with the gear."
"Gear?"
"The gear for the Knight of the Laughing Tree," Benjen answered.
"That was him?" Barristan never would've thought the crannogmen capable of such a feat.
"No, I was the mystery knight," There was no pride in Lyanna Stark's admission, only pain.
Barristan decided it would be better if he didn't show his dismay at her confession despite feeling it. He could sense the pain and anger lurking beneath the surface. It was ready to lash out like a hungry wolf.
"When they found us with the gear they demanded to know which of us was the mystery knight," Benjen explained, "Howland stepped forward and told them it was him."
"To protect us," Lyanna's voice hitched. "He told me," she bit her lip. "He told me," she stopped a second time to take a breath. "He told me it was his duty as a Stark bannermen. He-" She couldn't finish.
He remembered Aerys' wrath towards the Knight of the Laughing Tree as well as the king's certainty that he was an enemy of the Crown. Barristan did not need to ask what happened to their friend, because he knew what happened to those Aerys was convinced were his enemies. A bright, green flash flickered across his vision of the many memories of him standing silently while guilty men were condemned. I will not be that man anymore.
"But they still took us!" Benjen protested. "They promised they'd release us after Prince Daeron was arrested. They didn't want us to warn them."
"We must go," he couldn't save their friend, but he could save them, "Quickly grab those cloaks and use the hoods too," He doubted Rhaegar would remain generous if Barristan was caught sneaking out the two Starks. "We need to leave."
"Where?" Lady Lyanna's tone remained suspicious despite Barristan freeing her and her brother.
"We're going to find horses," he was relieved they at least listened to him by putting on the cloaks.
"But where are we going?" This time it was her brother. He pulled his hood up.
"We are riding west," he was about to add that we're riding to find Prince Daeron, but he stopped himself because he knew what was to come. "We're riding to find King Daeron."