Lyanna felt a mixture of anxious rage curl through her gut and around her heart, in an instant she had been ensnared and it felt like she'd never breathe freely again. I am Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, soon to be Lyanna Baratheon if she married the southern lord as her Father decreed. Robert Baratheon was the second son of three, fostered alongside her brother. Ned assured her again and again that it was a good match in every way that mattered. That was something she didn't attempt to dispute, her Father and brothers were all pleased and only she was not.
The Baratheons were a Great House; their lineage was 'worthy' of her own Stark bloodline. Robert Baratheon was a warrior; he'd be able to protect her. He was wealthy enough to provide for her happiness IF her happiness could be bought. It CANNOT, she thought willfully, my happiness will be determined by the depth of one's heart not by the depth of one's pockets! Robert Baratheon would not be unkind to her, he'd treat her well as a person but he would NOT love her! Lyanna had been assured he wasn't unkind and of what seen of him personally made her believed that. He didn't appear like he was quick to anger and when he was she was sure he'd never resort to violence against a lady. It was this reason, the ONLY reason why she wasn't opening protesting the match, fighting it tooth and nail.
She was a Stark, the wolf was in her blood, but she was a lady as well and there was no reason for such a spectacle. It would accomplish nothing and no one would understand her protestations unless they were the ones expected to wed HIM. She might not have been so displeased or so despairing if it wasn't the fact he was so free in his affections with every woman beneath the sun and moon. Men always promised their wives such things, that they'd put aside the habits they'd cultivated while growing up but Lyanna was anything but a fool, she didn't believe it.
From afar her gray eyes watched at the formalities of the betrothal and marriage were settled by contract. Lyanna had always known this day would come, what would be expected of her. In retrospect she knew there were worse prospects, worse lords than Robert. She would never be the Lady of Storm's End, that title would belong to Selyse Florent, the betrothed of Lord Stannis, the eldest Baratheon. She would become the wife of Robert, who would be a banner man to his brother, a high born banner man, but all the same merely a banner man. There was no greatness to that task, nothing to one day aspire to unless if, by some manner of luck, she'd produce a child of the union. It was a thankless prospect to leave Winterfell where she was a THE Lady to go be the wife of second born son somewhere to the South. If she managed to bear a son he'd only inherit if Stannis failed to produce his own sons and even then her child would wait behind Robert and Renly before getting his turn.
Lyanna didn't consider herself wholly vain; power and influence were not all that mattered to her. Deep down she merely wanted to count, to be someone to both her spouse and the world. How could this be the BEST she could do? Robert would not swear off other women, she would not be his one and only all the days of his life. And if her father was marrying her for the sake of influence and inheritance then surely there were other high Lords or their heirs that were unpromised and unwed. When it came to inheritance the first born were the ones that mattered!
A young man situated himself next to her, her gray eyes traveling away from Robert Baratheon to focus on the outline of her brother Eddard, "Robert is a good man, he's like a brother, he'll make you happy."
"You sound so sure of that but you don't know what makes me happy. I love you, Ned but you've been away for years and years, fostered in the Vale and I've been here. You don't know what will make me happy, he doesn't know what will make me happy. I've already heard he has a bastard daughter in the Vale. Is it true?"
Ned flinched at her coarse choice of words or maybe it was because there was no graceful way to deny his friend's sins. It likely wasn't easy to be in Ned's place, he was quiet, honest, and honorable and she was his blood but he was also loyal and Robert had come to Winterfell his brother in everything but blood. Ned went for the middle road, telling her the truth but trying to soothe her as well, "I don't know where you heard that but he does," Ned placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her to face him, "but I assure you again that Robert is a good man, what he has done before this is insignificant. Already he has changed for the better, he will be good and true to you."
Lyanna looked back at the outline of her Father and Robert thinking, No he won't..., then she glanced to her brother, "You're wrong, that man will never keep to one bed."
Then she heard it, "Lyanna," her name, he was calling her name. Already she had committed herself to not making a spectacle but that didn't mean she couldn't be entitled to fighting and railing against it privately. She wasn't sure what Ned would do but she knew he'd not hurt Robert by saying she departed on purpose when called. She pulled herself out of her brother's embrace and silently trailed off towards the gardens in the cold winter night, as if sensing her desire to escape the howling of wolves could be heard in the distance drowning out her departing footsteps and Robert's voice.
Anew she was hit with how much he loved Winterfell and how much she'd miss it, time and again she'd been told that the North was wasted upon her, that she belonged somewhere warmer and more vibrant. How very wrong they were, it was more than just her home, it was a part of her and you couldn't have one without the other - she belonged to the North and the North belonged to her.