Cersei:
Why are we here?
Cersei relaxed herself within the tub that the Tullys had provided for her.
She had been traveling on the road unable to really properly wash herself so she had gotten used to her appearance, she had even started to like it. These red stains showed the fate of those who thought they could take me. They tried not to just take my freedom, but they tried to wretch me from him. She wouldn't forget the wet, strangled gasp of the first man she killed in that fight. His eyes wide in fright in those last flickering heartbeats, staring in helpless horror as she plunged the dagger into his throat.
The blood had felt warmer than this bathwater. Her arms had been scrubbed clean, her neck, her face, her legs. The last lingering red remnants of her victory were washed away. The evidence of my triumph, the show of my strength.
Her dress had been a testament to her will. The blood stains of her enemies made her dress a tapestry displaying her skill, but that too had been taken away from her. It had been ripped and stained, but she thought the blood splatters brought out the crimson in her ruined dress, but it had been tossed away like a dirty rag.
Soaps and oils had been applied to her and the water, adding flowery scents to the air and to her skin. She raised her hand out of the water watching the water spill out between her fingers. She examined her nails to see they had cleaned them too.
They cannot take my memories. They cannot scrub it away with soaps and sponges.
She ripped the dagger out of her first kill with an awkward twist of her body to escape the other assailant's grasping hand. She nearly lost her balance in the movement, but her practicing footwork saved her, and doomed him. She put all of her anger into the thrust before driving the dagger into the man's gut. He coughed and gagged, cried and gaped. The blood started as a trickle, slipping past her dagger, before she gave the weapon a relentless tug to wrench it free, then the wound became a crimson torrent…
SPLASH. Her hand hit the water harder than she intended. It was so sudden that it startled the attendants in her room. The noise was a knife that had cut through their mindless chatter.
"My lady?" One of them called out to her.
She raised a hand to wave away their concern. They didn't persist and went back to their work and prattle. She had dismissed them from personally attending her with the bath, after they had finished with her hair. She wanted a moment of peace without being grabbed, touched, or scrubbed.
I shouldn't be here. She leaned her head back against the cushioned pillow. I should be with him.
Cersei looked at her leg that dangled out of the tub. The cool air was a refreshing kiss against her bare and wet skin. It should be him who is in here with me. She was resentful for this poor company forced upon her.
Daeron would tell me . He wouldn't hide me away. That spurred her to stir out of her bath. She stood without shame or shyness, feeling the water dribbling down off her, splattering back down into the tub and around the surrounding floor.
He'd listen to her words: We should be going to the west to raise my family's banners. They could not be safe or settled until they were back at the Rock. Her eyes settled on a pair of Tully trouts that were in the stonework above the hearth. We should be amongst lions not fish.
A servant made a surprise squeak. "My lady?"
"Is my gown ready?"
"Yes, my lady, bu-"
Cersei knew they had some excuse or order they were about to parrot so she cut her off. "Then I will wear it."
She carefully stepped out of the tub, one of her attendants rushed forward with a towel to begin to wipe her down, but she moved with hesitation that made Cersei think she'd be stuck in this chamber all day. "I'll do it." She felt their envious eyes upon her form while she dried herself off. Yes, I'm beautiful as well as powerful. "That will be all," She told them, tired of their presence. They wisely listened. One by one they curtseyed and left.
Her dress was simple and her hair was still wet, but she didn't care. She didn't have time for frivolity, not now. I've waited long enough. Besides I want answers not compliments.
"Why are we here?"
It was probably not the first words that should've come out of her mouth upon finding him. She came in like an angry burst of wind, spotting him by the hearth, sitting in a cushioned chair. There was a glass of wine at his elbow on a table that bore carved Tully trouts, but his drink looked untouched.
Daeron took her sudden appearance and demand with a small smile. He rose from his seat. "We were invited." He then looked her over, but there was no disapproval in his eyes at her damp hair and drab gown.
His eyes were so warm she could feel a spark begin to burn in her chest from his gaze. She wanted to smile at his wit, cherish his handsome face, to embrace him, but her impatience made her too prickly. "Your brother tried to arrest you."
"He did," Daeron's smile tightened.
"We should be going West, Daeron," She implored him. "We should be raising my father's bannermen." She feared the moment would be stolen from them, and a cry would soon come from the walls that Rhaegar's men or the king's had followed them here. That they were now stuck inside a castle that was not their own. The Tullys were neither friends or family. They may have given them bread and salt, but trouts tend to swim away not stand and fight.
"We could find allies in these halls, Cersei." He walked across his chambers with his glass of wine, but didn't drink from it until he reached the table. "We've been given bread and salt." He took a long sip as if to further prove his point. "Meanwhile, my brother will be riding back to the capital, my father too."
"To call their banners," She felt her heart hammering in her chest. The anticipation and anxiety were twin hammers that would not let her stay calm or comfortable. "They will come for us."
"They will come for me ."
"They can't have you," She growled, a wave of red flickering across her vision. Cersei could almost feel the warm splatter against her face from those who had already tried to take him from her. He's mine.
"We should leave," She didn't like this notion of waiting and talking while the Mad King and his equally mad heir were hatching their own dangerous schemes.
"Your father and brother are speaking with their bannermen who attended the tournament."
"They are?" She tried to hide her frown at not being told this. Jaime and I both fought, but he's given the honor to plan while I was forced to wash.
"Yes," He must have seen something in her expression since he approached her. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew." His fingers brushed some of her damp hair away.
"No," She willed her voice to sound fierce. It must be a roar and never a whimper. "I didn't." I was confined to a tub. "Why aren't you with them?" She thought he should be or with Robert and Ned and Oberyn or even Lord Tully. She thought he should be doing something, but he hadn't been when she found him. She didn't understand especially since she heard the whispers and some of the men in how they addressed her betrothed, they called Daeron, King.
It wasn't a word one said lightly. It wasn't a title Daeron had sought, but now it was being thrust upon him. We cannot be left alone in Summerhall so now Rhaegar will risk it all. The other word so often spoken with king, didn't bring the giddy joy it did when she was younger. When it was all she ever wanted to be- Queen. There was none of that burning desire that had consumed her so thoroughly for too many years.
When she thought of her and Daeron together, it wasn't in front of the Iron Throne in the Great Hall as King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but in a sept with a septon in front of them. He wasn't coronating them, but marrying them. We're being called husband and wife. It was a pleasing thought of a promising future that Rhaegar was determined to steal from them.
"I've spoken to them including your father," His words broke through her musings.
"And?" She despised being the last to know. It felt like a weakness she could never shield herself from.
"It will be at the Rock, our wedding, and all that will follow. If it meets with your approval."
"It does," She answered, "It does," She was repeating herself but she didn't care because she was so unbelievably happy that they were so close to what she wanted. It was only when her own frustration began to fade could she see how much this was all starting to affect him.
The tension in his shoulders, the weary wrinkle across his brow, the uncertainty that lurked within the depths of his eyes. The tight grip in which he was holding his glass or the nervous clenching and unclenching of his free hand. I was a selfish, blind fool! She cursed herself, I complained and ranted while he's drowning in front of me. He needed my hand, but I gave him my fist.
She kissed him then, wanting to take it all away from him or at least to distract him from the endless worries that cropped around him like summer weeds. It was searing, but all too short because of a sudden and unwanted knock on the door.
"Prince Daeron?" It was an unfamiliar voice to her ears, but that didn't stop her from focusing all of her ire at this unseen attendant who interrupted them. "Lord Hoster Tully is ready for you."
"Thank you," His eyes were on her when he added, " We 'll be ready shortly."
They weren't led to Lord Tully's solar or to his hall, but to a pair of chambers that looked to not have received many guests over the years. One of the tapestries that remained hanging on the stone walls was a large cloth of red, but with the top and bottom being blue to resemble waves of a river with smaller trouts stitched to appear as if they were swimming in it.
Lord Tully was waiting for them by the open doors that led out to a high stone balcony. He was as tall as her father. His hair wasn't as red as his daughters. It was more rust colored with some grey beginning to intrude. The beard that covered his cheeks and chin was the same color. He had blue, shrewd eyes, and was smiling when he saw them.
He dipped his head in greeting, "Prince Daeron." He then raised his eyes to regard her, "And Lady Cersei." He gestured for them to join him on the balcony. "It is a lovely day, please."
"Thank you, Lord Tully," Daeron replied. They took two seats across from him. The chairs were cushioned, the sunlight was warm against her skin. The Lord of Riverrun was right about it being a lovely day. The rush of water below them was a soothing sound. Unseen birds could be heard twittering to one another.
"Wine?" Lord Tully offered, servants were standing and waiting for their orders.
They accepted. The vintage was local and unfamiliar to her, but the taste was pleasant. Her first sip had been small. It was polite and cautious, prepared to give a pretty smile to hide her distaste for bad wine. The second sip was longer, settling herself more comfortably into her surroundings.
"Lady Cersei, you are a lovely surprise," Hoster said to her once the three of them were alone.
She smiled at him. "I hope it is a welcome one."
"It is," He assured her. "I kept my Cat by my side for years, letting her lead and learn. She was my heir until Edmure was born to us. He is young but my Cat is a good teacher," He boasted, "It will be a sad day when I must remove the Tully maiden cloak from her shoulders."
I doubt you'd weep tears of sorrow if the trout cloak was replaced with a dragon one, She suspected, Lull us here with your interest of friendship, all the while securing your eldest daughter's hand to a Targaryen prince. The thought struck her with a sudden sharpness that made her nearly wince, my prince. She unintentionally tightened her grip on Daeron causing him to look her way.
She answered his inquisitive gaze with a smile. It wasn't like the one she had just given Lord Tully. This smile was something true. It wasn't a polite veneer for her to hide behind, but a telling way to show her appreciation for him.
Lord Tully spoke up. "We are honored to host you. It has been some time since my family has had so many great and noble families behind our walls and beneath our roof."
"I'm grateful," Daeron made no mention of his own family.
I imagine Daeron's family would be grateful to the Tullys if they delivered him to the gates of the Red Keep . She tried to soften the sour feeling in her stomach with more wine.
"I do not plan on intruding on your hospitality for too long, my lord," Daeron said, "Riverrun has proven a welcomed reprieve, but I have other matters to attend to."
"I understand," Lord Tully didn't sound offended that he'd be seeing them depart so soon nor was he insistent that they try to stay longer. "Especially in regards to the rumors that are coming out of Harrenhal. They are rather concerning." He paused as if waiting for them to object or react, but when she and Daeron didn't in the way he was expecting, he continued. "It is said you've committed treason against the Crown. You and your party killed many men including the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
"Rhaegar killed those men when he sent them to try to arrest Daeron." She'd not shy away from who the blame should be given to. "The charges were false." She'd not allow her or Daeron's name to be tarnished by these lies.
"They carry the authority of the Iron Throne. That cannot be ignored," Hoster Tully neither looked convinced at her argument or truly invested in Rhaegar's. "The law of the Seven Kingdoms, the royal authority, the High Septon, all of the displays of power are with your brother, Prince Daeron."
"I'm well aware of my brother's advantage," Daeron's tone was beginning to sharpen.
"In the eyes of the smallfolk and the Seven Kingdoms, you will be seen as a rebel, a usurper. Rhaegar will send out ravens and riders to tell his tale and it will be a compelling one, of a jealous younger brother trying to take what was not his. How he was caught and fled like a guilty man, but not before striking down many loyal men to the Crown ," Hoster observed rather politely despite the dark observations.
"You cannot dismiss the power that will wield. You, the greedy and grasping second coming of Daemon Blackfyre and him, the loyal prince defending his father and the realm."
Daeron scoffed before rising out of his seat. "You do not need to remind me of the affection my brother holds in the heart of so many. The smallfolk, the capital, the Seven Kingdoms, how they adore my brother, their precious silver prince."
Cersei couldn't forget all the applause and adulation Rhaegar received during the tournament at Harrenhal. Oh how he presents himself as some benevolent being ! She had moved to join Daeron, placing her hand on her prince's shoulder. Anyone could look promising if compared solely to the Mad King! That was the folly, she thought, the trap everyone fell into. It was a failing she knew all too well. On the outside to them all, Rhaegar would've looked perfect, but he was rotting from the inside out.
"If you truly believe or respect the might of the Iron Throne then why did you invite us to your castle?" Cersei asked, giving only a flickering look to their host.
"Curiosity," Hoster answered mildly, "To see how close we really are."
She didn't believe that. We're here for his amusement and ambition. She knew what he wanted. He'll hear our words, but he'll not commit until he hears what the Iron Throne will offer.
Daeron sighed. "We're only this close because my brother insists on shoving me towards a confrontation I didn't want."
"You blame Rhaegar and he blames you," Hoster sounded almost amused, as if he was a father mediating between his children and not a Lord Paramount between two feuding princes.
Daeron didn't make an effort to return to his seat. He remained standing across the sitting Lord of Riverrun, "My brother refuses to respect the betrothal our father has made with Lord Tywin Lannister."
"All this bickering over betrothals," He let out a soft chuckle that wasn't mirthful, "You're holding up a looking glass and directing it back at me, Prince Daeron. All I can see is my brother and myself, and the rows we had over this very issue," His tone sombered, "However, we only exchanged shouts and curses, the direction yours is taking is much more dangerous."
"I am aware of that," Daeron acknowledged, "but now that I have been put on this path, Lord Tully, I cannot ignore what else I see. My father's madness only worsens and my brother's fascination with prophecies is leading my family towards our own annihilation." Daeron went over to retrieve his wine glass which he then proceeded to empty in one sip. "I cannot allow that."
Hoster's eyebrows rose at those revealing words. "You have powerful friends," He began to list them, "Lannister, Martell, Baratheon," raising a finger with each family he mentioned, "These are great and strong houses, but I caution you do not count on men that have yet to be raised."
"You doubt the loyalty of my father's bannermen?" Cersei understood his implication and its insult, intended or not. "The Westerlands follow House Lannister and no other," She declared proudly.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I mean no insult, Lady Cersei," His tone almost sounded sincere to her ears.
You mean many things, she suspected, he comes to them as their host to offer friendly counsel, but she saw through it. He puts down Daeron's friends to likely lift his own family. Oh, do not rely on Baratheon or Lannister, He'd caution, but you can rely on me. He'd say it simply and kindly, And then he'd slip in the need for his eldest daughter to have a husband.
"Thank you, Lord Hoster for this enlightening discourse," Daeron was more polite than she wished to be. "You've given me much to think about." He held out his hand for her which she happily took, while making sure that Lord Tully saw it too.
Daeron didn't speak again until they were outside the chambers with his own guards walking with them. "Lord Tully will not be hasty," He said, "We do not have the luxury of time like he does. We must act. We must leave."
"When?" She didn't protest. This castle was an obstacle that she wanted to clear. Past here, we ride to the Rock. Mother and Tyrion were waiting for her. She missed her brother dearly, her mother too. It had been months since she last saw them, but it was more than just family waiting for her.
At the Rock I will become his wife. A rush of warmth spread through her at that declaration.
"As soon as we can."
Lyanna:
It was hard to sleep. The dreams were always the same.
No, not dreams, she corrected herself, dreams would've been easier. They weren't real. Dreams were lies and hopes and fears, but they would always dispel like a cold breath. You could see or remember them for a while but then they'd turn into nothingness, a fuzzy image that you couldn't quite remember. I'll never forget Howland's sacrifice.
She turned her face over into her pillow, muffling a sob that tore through her like a harsh blizzard.
I serve House Stark, he was small and solemn, determined to do his duty for her family. He picked up the shield knowing it wouldn't be used for defense but a condemnation for something he didn't do.
Another sob followed, her hands were shaking while her pillow attempted to muffle the mournful sound that was being wrung from her. She counted a few more seconds before she turned over, letting out a breath that turned into a hiccup. Her eyes stung with tears, wetness smeared against her cheeks.
She scrubbed them away with the back of her hand.
Lyanna should've known a soft bed wouldn't have helped her. For the first time since she left the tournament with Ser Barristan and her brother, they were staying in a keep under a lord's protection. They had rode fast and tirelessly through the Riverlands wilderness once they fled Harrenhal. That had been days ago. They stopped only for their horses and short rests for themselves.
They had arrived at the Golden Tooth that day. The castle was accommodating to their unannounced guests. The Leffords had put a castellan in charge of the keep since they and much of their household had gone to Harrenhal to attend the tournament. They hadn't returned nor had there been sight or word from the Lannisters who were expected to pass through on their return to Casterly Rock.
She slipped out of her bed knowing restful sleep would not come to her. The only lights in her room was a sliver of moonbeams coming through a window since she had only partially closed the curtains. The small hearth in her very small room had a fading orange glow. She padded over to the chair in front of the fire.
The cloth of her borrowed gown was scratchy against her skin. When they fled Harrenhal she didn't have any of her clothes so she had been wearing the same grey tunic and dark trousers for days. Here, she was offered some clothes which included this old sleeping gown that she was wearing.
I was so eager to participate, so proud with every victory I earned. She stared sullenly into the dying orange glaze of the fire. They cheered for me, thinking I was a man, some great unknowing knight.
It had been almost impossible for her to stop smirking that night when all anyone was talking about was her or as they called her, The Knight of the Laughing Tree.
The cloth scratched at her arms. She fidgeted in her seat, adjusting her gown as she did trying to alleviate the annoying discomfort it was having on her.
She didn't tell Ned who she was. Lyanna suspected he'd not find it charming or courageous but foolish. He'd frown and insist she stop before she got hurt or was exposed. I should've told him.
Lyanna nearly told Robert. It was a temptation that only grew while she sat beside him listening to him that supper as he tried to guess who it was. A time or two she had to turn a snicker into a cough or cover her mouth to hide her amusement at his poor attempts.
It's me, Robert! She'd tell him, Lyanna didn't think Robert would scold or worry. He'd burst out laughing. It was enough to make her smile in the dark, wistfully wondering how it would've played out. His face hovered in front of her, he was grinning while his bright blue eyes shined like twin stars. Seeing his handsome visage and thinking of his charming laugh brought a sudden sensation within her chest.
I should've told them, the sensation was quickly snuffed by her guilt. Howland paid the price for my pride.
Lyanna, Howland's voice seemed to call to her. She ran her hands up her arms trying to smooth her gown's sleeves from pricking at her skin like fingernails.
I just wanted to teach them respect and honor. It should've ended there, but it didn't. The memory of that fateful day swirling all around her, trying to pull her down like a raging whirlpool. It wasn't supposed to be like this, the guilt caught her in churning waters. I just wanted to defend Howland.
When they told me that Aerys wanted the Mystery Knight, she should've confessed to them then. Ned, Robert, Prince Daeron, they would've helped me, protect me, but she convinced herself that she was protecting them by not telling. Lyanna thought the fewer who knew the less likely that the Mad King would discover her and learn the truth.
They found us in a clearing. I never should've gone back. She felt herself shaking like she was standing on the deck of a boat sailing through a storm. She pulled her legs up and then hugged them trying to stop her trembling.
The Crown Prince had been surrounded by a dozen men, but there was no white cloak amidst them. She had never been so close to Prince Rhaegar. She remembered trying to watch him joust during the tournament. She had been impressed by how good he was, at how many good men he took down. Lyanna had thought it difficult for this prince to be the Mad King's son. He seemed everything Aerys wasn't, but she was wrong, so very wrong. He just hides his madness better than his father.
It was me! Howland declared to the Prince and his men, I was the knight!
Lyanna rested her chin on her knees. The gown continued to prick away, pinching and scratching at her. I wanted to teach those squires respect, but I was the one taught the lasting lesson.
It was playing out in front of her with painful clarity. She was struck by how quickly it all came crumbling down around her. Lyanna tightened her grip around her legs, but it could not deter the shivering that went through her. The tears were cold as they trickled down her cheeks, blurring her vision.
'My father is a sick man. I've tried my best to tend to him, but this tournament has not agreed with him,' Rhaegar had sighed, ' Its pained me to watch him only worsen these past few days, and when we learned we had reason to believe that the Mystery Knight may be working for my brother.' The Crown Prince had gestured for one of his men to come forward. ' It's undone him.'
Lyanna pulled at the sleeves, the irritation only worsened. She wanted to slip it off and toss it into the fire. It was all over, threatening to consume her, these burning scratches that were reaching and hurting her in places where the gown wasn't even touching her. Make it stop! She wanted to scream into the darkness. These invisible itches that were unrelenting in their torment.
"Lyanna?"
She didn't look up, thinking it was the memory leaking through. She looked down at her arms, but saw no red marks. What's happening?
"Lyanna?" The second time the voice sounded muffled.
She stirred in her seat, facing the door just as her name was said for the third time. "Benjen?"
He took that as permission to open the door, entering before Lyanna could protest she saw his wide smile. "What is it?"
"Prince Daeron's party sent a rider ahead. They'll be here shortly and Ned's with them!"
"Truly?" Lyanna knew the hour was late, but she wasn't about to wonder or complain about her brother riding in it if it meant she'd be seeing him so soon. "We have to greet them," She was already grabbing a borrowed robe. She wiped at her cheeks when she saw Benjen's brief, but knowing look. "Have you told Ser Barristan?"
"He knows."
"Then let's go," She felt herself smiling for the first time since that morning at Harrenhal before everything changed.
"You didn't kill Howland," Ashara's tone was both comforting and assertive.
They were sitting on Lyanna's bed. The morning sun was new and bright along the blue sky.
She tried to correct her good-sister, but Ashara would not hear of it. "You didn't." She repeated, firmly.
Ned had gone to have a word with Daeron and Ashara had decided to use that time to check on her. Lyanna was thankful for her good-sister's intentions and presence. They had only arrived at the Golden Tooth a few hours ago. It had been a tearful reunion. Lyanna would not forget the relief on her brother's face when he saw her and Benjen waiting for him or the fierce embraces that followed.
"Rhaegar killed Howland," Ashara said, "Aerys killed Howland." She took Lyanna's hands in hers, "But not you."
Lyanna opened her mouth to try to argue, but thought better of it. She sighed and gave a weak nod. She wanted to believe it, but part of her couldn't. It was my fault. I dragged him into it. It was me. The tingling sensation returned. She scratched her arms, gritting her teeth.
"How was Riverrun?" Her brother and Ashara's stay in Riverrun had barely been talked about. It had been a simple mention that they had made after Ned had revealed their own harrowing escape from Harrenhal which included saving Prince Daeron from getting arrested and a bloody skirmish.
"Brief," Ashara flashed a small smile, "It was for a possible alliance."
Lyanna stiffened. The itching was forgotten at the mention of betrothals, fearing her own fate. She remembered her father had already reached out to Riverrun about a possible match between her and Lord Tully's son and heir, Edmure. Had Lord Tully decided for it? It was a disquieting thought. I'm being offered up as a sacrifice because of Brandon's dishonor.
"You are not betrothed," Ashara noticed her discomfort, "He hasn't forgiven Brandon's insult to his dearly loved daughter so I do not believe Lord Tully is interested in any future alliances between your families."
She didn't hide her relief at her good fortune which earned a small smile from her good-sister. "So what did he want?"
"He wants great matches for both his eldest daughter and for his heir," Ashara said, "He did show interest in a possible match between Catelyn and Robert."
"Oh," Lyanna felt something sink in her chest. She tried to look uninterested, but she felt her good-sister's scrutinizing gaze on her. When Lyanna looked up to meet it she saw the knowing smile on Ashara's lips. She resisted the urge to scowl. It doesn't bother me. Robert asked after me, and I said no. She tried to tell herself, If he wishes to marry Lady Catelyn then so be it. The words were hollow and were unable to numb the ache she found nestling inside her. "Are they betrothed?"
"No, they're not."
Lyanna found herself turning her head to try to hide this sudden relief upon learning there was no betrothal. The act itself was all that was needed to condemn her, but Ashara didn't comment on it. She instead was talking more about their respite in Riverrun and about the Tullys. She focused on her good-sister's voice to help distract her from certain and confusing thoughts about the Lord of Storm's End.
"Lord Tully has to be careful in whom he chooses. Some of his most powerful bannermen are already backing Prince Rhaegar," Ashara was saying, "If he supports Prince Daeron and he loses then he risks losing everything since Rhaegar will be inclined to reward a loyal riverland house with the coveted title of Lord Paramount of the Trident. I-"
The door suddenly opened, breaking their conversation. Ned was in the doorway.
"Ned, what is it?" Ashara's voice held a growing tinge of worry to it.
"Robert is riding to the Stormlands to rally his bannermen for King Daeron," He answered, "I'll be accompanying him."
She wasn't sure why she was seeking him out. Liar. The voice inside was quick to denounce.
The Golden Tooth may have been a small castle, but it was not one that Lyanna was familiar with. She walked through the corridor hoping this was the right direction. She had only stopped to get Benjen and one other thing that was now secretly tucked away. Her borrowed dress swishing below her waist. It was blue silk with a few yellow suns sewn into the dress that resembled flowers. She had to accept what was offered to her by the ladies of House Lefford even though she would've preferred borrowing from the boys and men, tunics and shirts over gowns and dresses.
"Lya," Benjen wheezed behind her. His footfalls pattered against the stone floor, trying to keep up with her pace.
She ignored him, turning left when the corridor split. This should be the right one, she hoped.
It was a dead end. A short corridor with three doors, one on the right, one on the left, and one right in front of her. It was the one in front of her she was eying. She came to a halt before she could even reach the doorknob. Her heart seemed to make a small tumble in her chest.
" Thanks for waiting," Benjen came up beside her.
Lyanna didn't respond to her brother's sarcasm. She just looked at the closed door. Her fingers fidgeting at her side. The tumbling only worsened in her chest, making her feel suddenly nauseous, but she tried to push down that unhelpful feeling.
"Lya?" Her brother snapped his fingers.
"Wait out here," She ordered, she had made up her mind and went to the door.
"What?" He called after her, "I should-" His insistence stopped when she looked over her shoulder and glared at him. "I'll wait outside," He quickly agreed.
She felt a ripple go through her when her fingers touched the doorknob. It wasn't anxiousness or nerves, but what she would call, excitement. That fluttering feeling that clings to you before doing something daring and new.
It stayed with her when she knocked and only intensified when she was permitted entrance. Lyanna took a breath preparing herself as if she was plunging into the hot springs at Winterfell. She could hear Benjen's voice and encouraging words but they seemed so far away and then the door was opening and she went in.
"Lady Lyanna?" Robert Baratheon didn't hide his surprise upon seeing that she was his unannounced guest. She assumed he was expecting a castle's servant or one of his guards. "This is unexpected." It wasn't disappointment or excitement in his tone just confusion.
Her eyes took in his appearance while her mouth remained unmoving.
He was dressed for the long ride ahead of him. He was dressed mostly in black, tunic, trousers, and riding boots. He wore an onyx pin in the shape of a stag to hold his gold colored riding cloak in place. He was tall and handsome and she could see the outlines of his muscles beneath his shirt. She felt a curl of warmth bloom inside her. "Lord Robert," she said, "My brother told me of your plans."
"Aye, many stormlords have gone to the capital," His jaw was clenched. "I swore my loyalty, my sword, and my life to my cousin, my king." He didn't settle his gaze on her. "I must go to Storm's End to rally my bannermen who've remained loyal to the Baratheons and punish those who've broken their oaths," One of his large hands closed into a fist, "I hope to make Connington my first example."
It went unsaid between them what it was that was about to happen. What him and her brother were really riding into, and all that would follow. She was still reeling from the death of her friend, Howland. Lyanna ignored the slight itch that seemed to creep up her arm. Now, I must watch my brother ride off to war. Her stomach clenched while cold tendrils of dread stirred at the thought of all she could lose.
Lyanna looked at Robert, picturing ugly streaks of red seeping into his black tunic. Slashes carved across his chest, weeping blood. Lyanna suppressed the shudder that came through her like an autumn storm.
"What about the Rock?" She found herself proposing, knowing it was foolish. Lyanna didn't want the image of that wounded and dying Robert to settle in her mind. She knew that Casterly Rock was nothing but a temporary balm to her since she knew he'd only have to eventually leave there, her brother too.
Robert shook his head. "I can't do my cousin any good at the Rock."
What about me? She almost said, but felt her courage abandon her before the words could slip past her lips.
"I'm sorry about Howland," He looked unsure if it was something he should speak of which made his apology sound awkward, but it didn't diminish his sincerity.
"Thank you," She scratched at her arm when the itching threatened to reappear. I don't deserve any apologies. I killed him. Her pain and guilt must have been plain to see given the growing concern coming over his expression. His eyes were so blue and she saw the fondness lurking beneath them, which only fanned the warmth inside her.
"I heard you may be betrothed," Lyanna felt the rough strip of wool pressing against her arm, hidden beneath the blue sleeves of her dress.
"Yes, to Lady Catelyn, I've spoken to Lord Tully about it," There was an odd note in his voice.
"But you can't," She blurted out in protest, "Because you're already betrothed," She didn't hesitate, "To me."
He frowned. He was watching her warily. "I asked after you and your possible interest," He said slowly. His voice was guarded, "You said no."
She nearly winced at having it thrown back at her, but Lyanna didn't fault him or his reaction. She earned it. She wouldn't falter now. "I've reconsidered," she confessed, "If you'll have me that is."
There was only silence. It was unexpected and it made the worry grip her heart like an icy claw. The band around her arm felt like an iron shackle. The hope was draining out of her heart like an emptying pitcher. It felt like eternity waiting in front of him in those quiet seconds that followed.
It was the smile she noticed first. His blue eyes were bright and warm thawing the coldness that had tried to chain her heart. She felt her own lips begin to twitch watching him cut the distance between them and before she could react, she felt his hands around her and then she was in the air.
Flying, the laugh bubbled out of her when he lifted her off of the floor. Her protests broke into peals of laughter, finding the feeling thrilling while he spun her. Her cheeks were warm and her heart was soaring higher than she was. Lyanna looked down at the man she wished to marry, his eyes were sparkling while a smile was dancing on his lips.
"Lya?" Benjen stuck his head inside, puncturing the blissful mood that had enveloped her and Robert.
"Benjen!" She was swiftly put down much to her disappointment and annoyance. "Happy?" Lyanna didn't wait for her brother's answer before going to the door, pushing herself against it. Ignoring Benjen's sputtering before his head slipped out and the door closed behind her. She leaned against it, trying to catch her breath.
"I will write to your father," Robert said, returning to the proper show of decorum after her brother's untimely interruption.
"I will too," She was certain he would accept. I want to marry him, Father, she'd write, words she hadn't thought to ever write or say when she had first met the man in front of her, but he had surprised her. He had shown her a life she didn't think she'd have as a lord's wife. He offered her respect and freedom, when she had so long feared marriage could only restrain her.
"Robert, from what I said before-"
"I understand," He held up a hand to stop her, "I won't let any Storms come between us." He swore earnestly.
She nodded, finding herself wanting to believe him with all of her being, "Please, Robert, I know it can be dismissed, but it would hurt me too much," She confessed, seeing his expression beginning to crack at the tremor in her tone. "I-I," Her fears halted when she felt his large, calloused hands enclose around hers.
"I am yours," His voice was a quiet rumble like the sound of distant thunder. "I am yours."
"You are mine," She found herself repeating the sentiment, believing him. "I have something," Her hands reluctantly slipped from his grip. She went to her arm where it was hidden and tied. "It isn't much," She wanted to prepare him before she opened her hand to show it to him.
It was a rough strip of fabric. It was dirty and grey wool. She had crudely and hastily ripped it from her old tunic. The one she had been wearing when Ser Barristan found her and Benjen and every day since until they arrived at the Golden Tooth. It was the only Stark colored garment she had since everything else she brought was left behind at Harrenhal. "It's nothing really."
He took it from her hand, admiring it as if it was spun from gold. "No, my lady. This means everything."