Late 278 AL
"Come away from there!" Lyanna flinched at the harshness in her mother's voice. She glanced over her shoulder, the sentiment of guilt enough to make her pause. "Lyanna, you are not to go above. Have I not told you as much?" She bit her lower lip, frantically searching for an argument which might sway her mother. Nevertheless, the woman opened her arms and beckoned her over.
"But this is so very boring, lady mother," she complained, scowling at her sleeping brother. "And Ned and Brandon are up there. Why can I not be there as well?" Surely they were far enough from the shoreline that the danger was past.
Warm lips pressed against her hairline. "I like it no better than you, sweet girl. But we cannot waste the help given to us. It is safest that we remain here. And before long we'll be safe in Essos."
In truth Lyanna enjoyed that not at all. And it was all the King's fault. She hid her face against her mother's shoulder, breathing in the faint fragrance of her scented oils. She'd had to leave those behind. They had to leave many things behind. Her best dresses, her favourite pony, Nan, Brandon's steed and father's blades. They'd taken Ice though. Mother had wrapped it in many bundles of furs and thus far no one had questioned it.
"Will you tell me a story, lady mother?" she asked, tugging on the brooch holding her cloak together.
"A story? Truly, Lyanna, you are very nearly a lady grown and you still ask for stories." Laughter passed her mother's lips. "You ought to be telling your brother tales, not having me do it for you."
Unable to help herself, she pouted. "But Nan used to tell me stories every night." Poor, sweet Nan. What were they going to do to her once the King's men reached Winterfell? She was not young by anyone's count, not valuable beyond the care of children and even so, Southron folk tended to prefer the services of septas. Would they throw her out then?
Tears welled up in her eyes and a small, choked sound petered out past her clogged throat. She hated the King. And she wished him all manner of horrors, including worms in his mince pie. They'd done nothing to him so why did he have to chase them out of their home? "I want to go home."
"Her mother shushed her. "Hush, little one Dry your tears. Mother shall tell you a story." Yet those words were no consolation. Even as her mother weaved a tale of grand adventure with knights and ladies, she found herself missing the snarks and grumkins of Nan's stories. She wanted to hear about the Night's King and the brave warriors who stood against him. She did not dare mention it to her mother, though. Instead she forced herself to relax in the woman's hold and quieten her sniffles.
Somehow she managed to fall asleep, never quite learning what became of the lady her mother had chosen to focus upon, and when she came to, it was Brandon holding her and not mother. Craning her neck, Lyanna noted her brother slept, as did her mother.
Father was awake though, sitting by the door. He gave her a small tired smile. "You should sleep." Instead she wiggled her way out of her brother's hold and tiptoed over to her father's side. He allowed her to fetch a corner of his cloak and wrapped herself in a warm cocoon.
"I miss Nan." Nan had acted as wetnurse for her father and he'd brought her back when Brandon was born. She ended up staying with them as Ned came soon enough after and then she and Benjen arrived. She'd known the woman all her life. It hurt to abandon her to the tender mercies of a new master. "Why couldn't we take her with us?"
"You've outgrown Nan long past," her father said, stroking her hair. "And she would not have left her family behind. We do not always get what we wish for, Lyanna. Nan is doubtless much happier to return to her family."
"But who will mind us children?" she argued, sinking her fingers into his arm. All she felt was hard muscle and soft cloth. A rather strange occurrence given she was used to the thicker cloths more suited to winter. Where they were going, they would not need such thick clothing, would they?
"You will mind your brother and your lady mother will watch over the two of you." Yet how would she? Keeps were great in size. They could go for a full day without seeing each other. She frowned in confusion. Her father sighed, but did not pause in his stroking. "Life will be somewhat different in Essos, but I trust it shan't cause us too much trouble." A small tremor in his voice caused her much worry though. Her father's voice was steady. It had always been. Never had she heard him waver. "And you will need all your strength for that. You had best get a little more sleep."
Lyanna leaned against him. "Why are you not sleeping then, father? Do you not need your strength?" One of his arms went about her shoulders, settling her more comfortably in her spot.
"I am plenty strong, Lya. Or do you doubt me?" Well, he could pick up both her and Benjen when they clung to his arms. That had to count for something. And he could lift Ice very high. Yet he had still chosen to run from the King's wrath.
"Of course I do not doubt you, father." What did she doubt then? Why did she not feel safe? If Nan were with them she'd know what to say. She closed her eyes and counted backwards in her head. Maester Walys had told her it would help her fall asleep.
"Good girl." She wondered idly for how long they would be stuck below deck and if it were possible to shorten the length of the journey by sleeping all the way through.
Early 279 AL
She grabbed hold of the wooden handle with a low sound of frustration. No matter how she pushed or pulled, the thing was jammed and would not offer her the slightest advantage. Lyanna stomped her foot, nearing the end of her patience. "I should simply take an axe to you," she muttered, eyeing the handle with no small amount of hatred.
"Whenever you're ready to let me try, tell me," Benjen spoke from his spot in the shade. Her odious brother did not even have the good grace to cover his amusement. She glowered at him. Benjen's smile widened.
With a grunt of disgust, she threw the small towel hanging upon her apron away and stomped towards the cottage, tugging the door open. Without a single glance back she slammed the door shut. The sound reverberated through the small chamber and her mother's head poked out from the other one. "Where is the water?"
"Benjen is getting it." She walked within the place which served for bedchamber to them all. Or rather to her, mother and Benjen, for the most part. Father, along with Brandon and Ned, had yet to return and she did not expect that they would anytime soon. Nor did she particularly wish it. Lyanna glanced upon the bed. It was cramped enough with the three of them and whenever father was home, mother had them sleeping upon hay-filled mattresses. She much preferred the better quality of the bed.
In truth, her hatred for the little hovel had diminished into what could properly be termed as apathy. It protected them from the elements and offered enough shelter that mother could make her best attempts at becoming a seamstress. But it could not compare even to the smallest chamber of Winterfell. The servants in her father's keep were better accommodated.
Knowing her loitering about would not help matters, she picked up the small, crude broom mother had fashioned and set about cleaning the entrance chamber. It should not take very long. He hummed softly, thinking that when father returned he would have a tunic or two to mend. Mother had saved and saved to buy good cloth to make him garments. She looked down at her own. Gay in colour though it might be the golds and pale yellows were tattered and frayed. She would need to let the hem out. There were a few ribbons left and she could use those to delineate a new hem once she was done. The colours would class horribly, but it was better than nothing.
The door opened with a creaking noise. "Mother wants that water now, Ben," she said without looking up. Her eyes followed the length of her brother's legs up to the waist. There was no bucket in sight. Her head shot up. "Benjen, you said you would," her lips clamped shut before she could finish. Lyanna rushed forth, just as her brother swayed. "Steady now."
Leading the boy to a chair, she forced him to sit just as the sound of footsteps filled her ears. She turned instinctively. "Ser Books," she greeted, "we were not expecting you."
Mother came out of the adjoined chamber as well, a frown set firmly upon her face, "Master Books, what brings you?" Her father's companions had been by once or twice, but it was more them being on the road rather them paying social calls.
Books heaved a sigh and held out a neatly wrapped piece of parchment. "'Tis that husband of yours," he said, voice oddly flat. Her mother reached out and unfolded the parchment after she'd taken it. If possible, she looked even paler than Benjen. Lyanna did not need the words spoken to understand. Her stomach dropped. "Your sons remain with the captain. As soon as possible, they shall return for you. I was asked to make certain all was in order."
Mother's hands were shaking. "All is in order as you can well see. Pray, have a seat. I will bring you some wine to wash the dust from your throat." She spoke in such a calm manner, as though she hadn't just found out her husband was gone. Lyanna followed like as a duckling might, keeping her lips firmly pressed together. "We've some broth felt and there is a bit of bread over there," she pointed to a small cupboard, "see that our guest is fed while I bring the wine."
"Mother?" She reached out to touch her shoulder, but Lyarra shook her hold off.
"Not now, Lyanna. We have a guest to see to. Make certain your brother behaves." There was very little she could say to that beyond a mumbled agreement.
She filled a bowl with soup and then cut a thin slice of bread before carrying both back to Books. She caught the tail end of some comforting words. He did not need to be so kind to her brother. If anything, Lyanna wished he could be a tad more severe. The offerings were placed upon the table.
"How did he die?" Books looked up at her. Or rather simply into her face. Seated he was near her height.
"Bravely, lass; with his sword in hand." She handed him a spoon from the pocket of her apron. "He was a good man; and a good warrior." And he was dead. Lyanna bit painfully hard into her lower lip to keep from saying the words. This stranger did not care about them. "He will be missed."
"What of Ice?" Brandon should have it be rights, but these men did not follow the values of the kingdoms. She wanted to make certain.
"In your brother's keeping." The man swallowed another spoonful of broth. She turned to look at Benjen, meantime, offering him a reassuring nod.
"I shall go bring that water," she told him, "mother should be by with the wine any moment now." Her brother's reaction was a dismissive nod. It was difficult for her as well, she wanted to cry out, tears burning painfully at the corners of her eyes.
She rushed out, hoping no one had caught her reaction.
Mid 279 AL
Brandon pressed the ring into her palm. "He would have wanted you to have it." He'd brought back a long knife for her as well. It was not quite as effective as a sword would have been, but she supposed that there would be little need given their current situation.
"I do not like this." Her brother pursed his lips. "Why did you bring him here? What business is it of his how we live?"
"He wants to help. I am not in a position to refuse." Ned entered just then, arms loaded with firewood. He put the weight behind the door. "Tell her, Ned. Tell her why she ought to be grateful."
"The rent's gone up. At this rate, we shan't be able to afford food, let alone this." He pointed to the roof over their heads. "'Tis not ideal, but it is what it is and unless you have some way of earning coin, I don't see that there is any other solution."
"If word of this should get back to Westeros, they will surely laugh." Ned shrugged. Brandon's hand went to Ice's hilt. It was good to see that no matter how used he'd grown to his life as it was, he'd yet to forget where he came from.
"We shall have the last laugh yet ." Her eldest brot8her let go of his weapon. "Lya, there is naught to worry about,, I promise. You will have both Ned and me, Benjen will be able to earn his keep and mother will have some protection as well. This is a good thing."
"Earn his keep? How am I to earn mine, or does the captain might be wish not for on mistress but for two?" She knew her tone was too sharp by half, but she did not care for their scheme one bit.
"There are things enough for you to do; you needn't bother with worrying. I've already spoken to Meris and she agreed to take you under her wing." Lyanna crossed her arms over her chest, having long forgotten the basket of mending at her feet. "No need to give me that look."
"Pretty Meris has agreed to what precisely?" She'd heard about the woman, mostly from Brandon's stories. "Is she to train me? Teach me the art of prolonging a man's life by a moon turn so as to better torture him?"
"She is a good woman," Ned cut in, "and you are fortunate she agreed to take you in. Mother will have her own worries. You would do best not to add to them." At least Meris put the fear of the gods in those foolish enough to cross her. Come to think of it, it was a skill she could make use of.
"I am agreeing because I've no other choice." That was not precisely true. She could, of course, always join the girls in the taverns and inns. She'd seen enough of them in ports to know a living could be made. But the very thought made her skin crawl. She would rather gaze upon Pretty Meris for a decade rather than take the other road.
Lyanna pocketed the ring. She turned away from her brothers and gazed down into the cauldron. Bubbles rose to the surface, breaking one against the other. She leaned in. It was almost done. "In any event," Brandon continued, picking up where Ned had left off, "mother already knows about this and agreed that Meris would be the best option." Lyanna wondered whether her poor mother had fainted when she heard. It did seem like aught she might do. "Lyanna, I want you to promise you shan't make trouble."
"Why would I make trouble?" she snapped, glaring at him over her shoulder. They acted as though she were little child. "I disagreed with you; I did not refuse to go along with this scheme of yours." Brandon glared back at her. Ned, on the other hand, dropped into his seat and placed a hand on their brother's shoulder. "Well?"
For some odd reason, Brandon seemed to think that simply because on some issues they took different views, she was incapable of seeing the value in the solutions he proposed. "Sometimes you worry me. I simply wish to keep you safe."
She sighed and nodded her head. There was no use in further arguing with him once he'd made up his mind. "I know." At times she took wished she might keep them safe. Alas, she was less capable than father had been and he'd been dead for a while. "I do know."
With that small fragment of understanding between them. Lyanna found the wherewithal to carry on through the awkward supper, made even more so by the fact there were mannerisms and expressions she did not well recognise in her brothers. They'd changed. She wondered if she had changed. She wondered, if she should ever return to Westeros, to Nan and her stories of snarks and grumkins, would the old woman know it was her?
In the end, all such musings were to be kept tightly locked away. Brandon did not seem to think their return possible and Ned, though mellower in his delivery of such beliefs, agreed with the eldest sibling. The world was changing irrevocably around her and she found it was not at all to her liking. When father had lived, they'd had at least the hope, tenuous though it might be.
Before long supper was over and done with, her brothers took themselves without and left her to tidy up in their wake. She did not mind, not overly much. It gave her something to occupy her time with and the ensured she was not bothered for a little while, at least until they could be certain there would not be a single bowl flying at their heads. Might be Brandon did have appoint with his worrying. But Pretty Meris? She did not quite know where to take the woman from.
She dried the bowls with her ever present dishrag before putting them away. From without the sound of conversation swelled. Lyanna turned her attention to the bucket of murky water. She could not use it to scrub the cauldron clean. Her lips pursed in slight annoyance. Of course she would need fresh water.