i. When Lyarra Stark hears that her daughter is going to King's Landing the cup of mead in her hands crashes to the floor. Her reaction would've been made more understandable if she'd followed with a small exclamation of joy. Instead dread is etched on her features. "Why?" she asks hurriedly, hands gripping her husband's arm. "Why would you send our little blue rose there?"
Rickard shrugs her hands away. "It is time for her to let go of her mother's skirts." He sits down. "She can familiarise herself with the other houses and perhaps even find prospective matches."
"Prospective matches?" the woman parrots. "Rickard, she is not at all interested in making matches."
"Not now, but she will be," he assures her with an ease which baffles Lyarra. "By making friends among these other girls, she will be recommended to brothers, cousins, heads of houses. All that with as little expense to us as possible."
"Well, it does make sense, I suppose." Except she still doesn't want her daughter to go. "But we could always find her a husband here."
"The King orders it, we must obey." And that is that, so Lyarra calls for a new cup if mead and sits down by the fire.
ii. Far from displaying her mother's grace when taking the news, Lyanna chokes on her water. Benjen laughs at her so hard that he falls off the bed. Despite knowing the pain he must be feeling, Lyanna throws one of her slippers at him. "But Nan, I do not want to go!" She looks at her caregiver for help.
"Your father has already made up his mind," her mother interferes. "You are to go to King's Landing and that is the end of it. It shan't be bad, Lyanna. There will be a lot of ladies your age, and I dare say you will be making many friends."
Friends indeed, the young woman thinks. Friends who will be talking and sewing and marriage and whatever it is that ladies talk about all day long. She'll go insane. Or at the very least she'll commit murder. That would serve her parents well.
"Is this because I refused Baratheon's offer?" She almost wishes she had accepted. But then again, she doesn't. Indeed, King's Landing is infinitely better than Robert's bed.
"Why do you ask? Have you changed your mind?" Her mother looks – dare Lyanna say it – hopeful.
"Not at all," she replies.
"Then King's Landing it is," Lyarra settles the argument.
iii. "If you want me to, I'll come there too," Benjen tells her quite seriously when he takes the time to between shoving cold meats and fresh bread in his mouth.
"Not with manners like yours," Lyanna mutters under her breath, daintily taking a bite out of her own food. But she is touched by his offer, so she gives him a smile, thanking the gods his hearing is not all that good. "You would?"
Benjen gives her a sidelong look and nods his head enthusiastically. "I could see the Kingsguards and become a squire."
And just like that Lyanna's elation deflates. The Kingsguards. She should have knows her brother wouldn't offer to come with her from the goodness of his heart. "I'm sure it would break our mother's heart, little brother. Nay, you must stay, and in the absence of Brandon and Eddard, be of help to our father and of comfort to our mother." Her little speech attracts the looks of their parents who are probably wondering if some sort of charm had been placed upon their daughter. Lyanna grimaces. She can be mature when the situation calls for it.
Sliding a piece of meat in her apron, Lyanna excuses herself from the table. She is no longer hungry. The meat she throws to the dogs when no one is looking.
iv. Nan is sent out of her room before she has finished braiding her hair, and Lyanna cannot help but give her mother a mildly irritated look. Lyarra, who knows her daughter all too well, ignores the glare and sits on the edge of the bed. "Let me finish that for you," she says softly, taking the braid and continuing the work. "Do you have anything you wish to ask of me, daughter?"
"Have you ever been there?" Lyanna grudgingly accepts her fate by now. "Is it very different from the North?"
"Not as much as you would expect," the mother replies. "It is certainly warmer, and there is a greater variety of flowers to be seen, if you care for those." Which her daughter doesn't, by the small sound she makes. "There are of course the Knights and Maesters that can be found there, not even mentioning the visitors from Essos."
That gets Lyanna's interest. "And they bring with them all sorts of wonders, don't they?"
"Ah, for sure. The market is always full there. But you shall find out when you get there." For which reason she hands her daughter a small purse of coins. "I have saved these for another occasion, but I think they will be better used in this one."
v. Lyanna is not the only girl going South. But she might as well have been, because she won't keep company with the Ryswell girls if she can help it. They are older than her and not particularly friendly. There are others she does not know. Lyanna hardly pays any mind to them. The Ryswells she knows simply because the younger sister – Barbrey she is called – has a fondness for her eldest brother, Brandon. She is almost sorry for then as Brandon is not the most constant of men. She would have done better to set her eyes on Ned. But then again, all the females tend to flock to Bradon for some reason that is still unclear to Lyanna – she can only presume they are desperate for a higher position, or otherwise blind to the quieter, but of much better quality charms of her second brother.
But she is stopped from further contemplating the advantages of a match with Ned – any woman would be lucky to have his love, for his heart once gives, is not likely to change – by a violent shaking of the wheelhouse. They must be stopping for a short rest. Finally; there is only so much a woman can take.
vi. Catelyn Tully is one of the few intelligent beings Lyanna is fortunate in finding amongst all the featherbrains she is forced to socialise with. Her sister though, is not so lucky. But Lyanna puts up with her from the moment Catelyn introduces them. "I do not mean to be rude," Lyanna says as they are stretching their feet near a small river, "nay, actually, I do mean to be rude; why exactly is your sister so very fond of speaking of this Petyr Baelish?"
The redhead shrugs. "She says she loves him, but father won't allow them to court."
"Then she should've ran away with him," Lyanna points out. Catelyn laughs at that. "You don't agree?"
"It is not that simple," she manages to get out. "Do you not know why we are going to King's Landing?"
It does occur to Lyanna that there is more to the situation than what her parents had told her, but she never did think they would send her into the fray without proper protection. Unfortunately that is exactly what they seem to have done. Lyanna looks at Catelyn and tries to calm her wildly beating heart, but even as the words leave her mouth, she can already taste the bitterness, "Why exactly are we going to King's landing?"
vii. There are gentle ways of breaking delicate news to maidens; ways that won't send them spiralling into a catatonic state for at least five minutes, but people with little experience are hardly suspected to possess such knowledge. So Catelyn is nothing but straightforward. "How can you not know that the Prince is looking for a wife?"
"How can I be expected to know anything like that?" Lyanna complains as she enters the wheelhouse that hold Catelyn and some other ladies of the Riverlands. "I though Targaryen married within their own House."
"Normally they do, but there are times when they venture past the limits of their extended family. I suppose the Prince just did not find someone," Catelyn offers with an enigmatic smile. "This is an opportunity."
"A curse, more likely," Lyanna murmurs. "But surely he does not need all the noble ladies of the realm to be presented before him."
"I'm sure he doesn't, but his father seems of another opinion," Cat counters. "My lord father told me it was actually King Aerys who pushed to have us all in the Capitol."
As if that helps Lyanna any. "Ah, I see," she says for lack of anything better. "Then we can do naught but comply."
viii. "This is ridiculous!" Lyanna exclaims as she spies a girl of thirteen climbing out of a wheelhouse. "You weren't joking when you said all the noble maidens of Westeros were invited." And she uses the term invited loosely. "Look at her. I bet she's not had her moon's blood for longer than a couple of moon turns."
Catelyn nods her head in sympathy. At nine-and-ten she is ready for marriage. Lyanna at her six-and-ten can too be considered a candidate, but some of the girl here are probably not past the time when a doll is an appreciated gift. "He is not likely to choose any of them."
Lyanna almost rolls her eyes. Catelyn is good-looking, tall and slender, with a river of flaming hair and big blue eyes, and she is genuinely sweet, if a bit forceful when she makes her arguments. If she were a man, Lyanna is sure she would be conquered by the eldest Tully sister's charms. As it is, the two of them are on good terms, on the way to becoming fast friends. "Nay, he isn't." The better she think on it the more it makes sense that the Prince would wed someone like Catelyn Tully.
ix. King's Landing is the kind of place that impacts one strongly upon first viewing it; by which Lyanna means that one either loves the Capitol or hates it. "It is not as bad as you expected, is it?" Catelyn asks as they pass Baelor's Sept.
"It is certainly impressive," Lyanna confesses. She is in awe of it. "But what I really want to see is the market."
Lyanna is content to admire whatever they pass. The North is big, true, but it does not boast the elegance of the Sothern courts. The North is old and grand, but sometimes the new and beautiful is a welcomed sight. Not that Lyanna means to be at all enchanted by this life. She just finds that some aspects appeal to her – and it might not be a bad thing. She thinks of her mother's words. It seems Lyarra Stark was right about something – not that Lyanna does want to admit it, even in her own mind.
But beautiful or not, she will return to her own home. Determination burns inside of her. Her parents must have been aware that she has little chance of catching the prince's attention, which is why they did not even mention anything to her.
x. Is it possible for one's head to implode from anger? Lyanna certainly thinks so. The reason stands a few feet away from her. The creature is apparently named Cersei Lannister. She is the daughter of the Lord of Casterly Rock – the same man who us the King's hand. Of course that is no excuse for her behaviour, despite what the she seems to think.
"You could leave the poor girl alone," Lyanna comments, coming between the lioness and her prey. "She certainly didn't do anything to you." She doesn't want to have to bare her fangs on the first day, but the Lannister girl can't really seem to care about the wishes of others.
What Lyanna doesn't know is that if on her little brother scratching and biting works, it doesn't on ladies. Here the weapons are smiles and eyes and jewels and pretended coyness. But she find out soon enough. Cersei huffs and crosses her arms over her – ample, to Lyanna's chagrin; the other is only a year older in age, but many more in body – chest. "Just keep out of my way, and I won't have you flogged."
"That shouldn't be difficult at all," Lyanna returns, taking the other girl's hand – because the one she protects is really just a child – and departs, Catelyn following them with Lysa in tow.
xi. Rhaegar is not sure if he should be amused or horrified at his parents' latest scheme. He opts for the former, if only because the latter would make him run back to Dorne – and that is never a good sign; if he, a warrior, tucks tail and runs from a few young ladies, what exactly does that say about him.
Oberyn grins. He finds this much too amusing to keep quiet. "So, are you still of a mind that you should not have taken that ship to Pentos when you had the chance?"
The Prince rolls his eyes. "Coming from you, Oberyn, that sounds a lot like you rather want to assume my responsibilities. I am sure you family can do something similar for you if you ask them." The Seven know Rhaegar didn't even have to ask his. He gives the laughing man to his right a withering look. "I just cannot believe they would do something like this."
"Well, you're not exactly getting any younger," Arthur points out. "And you do need an heir."
"I have Viserys," Rhaegar replies.
"I mean an heir of your own. Or at least a wife. It's a simple matter of public image."
xii. There are times when Rhaegar wonders why he didn't marry Elia Martell when he had the chance. This is one of those many times. His mother gives him a winning smile, which Rhaegar feels obliged to returns. "How was Dorne, my son?" she asks, embracing him. Unfortunately, Elia is happily married and in no position to offer him any help with avoiding his mother's tricks – because he cannot imagine his father coming up with this on his own.
"Dorne was wonderful," he answers in a short manner. He doesn't dare question her yet about the abundance of women that seem to have appeared out of nowhere. "How have you been?"
"Very lonely without you." The Queen gives him another smile. "I have taken the liberty of gathering some noteworthy maidens here. I hope I need not elaborate. You know your duty, my son." Which is to say she does not wish to have to force his hand, but if the need arises she'll not hold back. "Have I made myself clear?" His parents do love him, and Rhaegar is sure they mean well, but he is not exactly thrilled. "At least don't run away like last time."
"That I can do," he promises.
xiii. Promises are double-edged swords. Unfortunately for him, Rhaegar can already feel the blade piercing his skin. It seems he cannot walk anywhere around the Red Keep without coming upon a couple or two of tittering young women. It doesn't bother him that they are here, only that they can't seem to do anything intelligent – because no one will ever convince him that he can fall in love with a pretty face and an empty head.
How can his mother not see they are mere baubles to a man like him? He needs a woman he can talk to, not an ornament.
A more religious man would look for salvation in the Sept, Rhaegar merely asks his mother how soon he can start actually looking at these women. Aye, he is that eager to send them back home. Hopefully it can he achieved in a short time, or he might go insane.
"You should look at this like the opportunity it is," Arthur tries to help him see the good in the situation.
"The opportunity to learn more about stitching, you mean?" He receives an annoyed look for that. "Would you feel any more comfortable than me?"
"Probably not," his friend acquiesces.
xiv. He does try to pay attention, he really does. Rhaegar cannot seem to follow the decidedly one-sided conversation lady this or that carries on by sheer force of will it would seem. He nods his head and smiles – it would be rude not to. Who is she again? A Duskendale? A Westerling? A Spicer? He has no idea. He must be coming off as shy because the girl actually slides this much closer to him. Rhaegar barely manages not to let his smile slip. He halts her process by distracting her attention. "And you do not miss your family, my lady? Coming from such a loving environment, you must find their absence a bit perplexing."
"I suppose I do, my lord" the blonde replies with an easy smile. "But I am very happy to be here."
"Indeed?" he hopes to make her talk and forget about coming closer.
It works marvellously, but his eardrums are not thanking him. His head won't either by the time he is through. This is what the circle of the damned must feel like; he resolves to have more food the next time around. A lady wouldn't eat and speak at the same time – at least he hopes so.
xv. As it turns out he doesn't need the food. The next lady he meets is a child. He looks at the slight – he can't call her woman – girl and smiles. He does not need to dissuade her from trying her seduction skills on him, the child can barely string two words together in his presence, so he somehow steers the conversation to a topic she is sure to be comfortable with.
This one he doesn't even seriously consider and wonders if his mother had spent too much time in the sun. He will have a word with her about trying to get him to wed girl old enough to be his daughters. But for now he smiles at the enthusiasm with which his guest recounts her adventures shared with older brother and younger sisters.
By the end of this meeting he is in a better mood and confident that he can face the other candidates without whishing to slam his head into a wall, repeatedly. He is sure she will find a good man one day, the little lady who now smiles shyly at him from behind a glass of iced milk. He barely manages to swallow his laughter at the thought of marrying someone like her.
xvi. The stables are one of the few places in which he is in no danger of meeting potential brides. Or at least so Rhaegar thought up until today. He hasn't exactly been counting on the fact that some of the young ladies might be interesting in the horses – not because it is impossible, but he just assumed they were keeping the company of one another and not really allowed to go wherever they want. The woman looks over her shoulder, but at first seems to miss him even as her eyes pass over him. She hums softly – a song Rhaegar is not familiar with. But her mistake is short-lived, just like his elation.
She turns around with a sharp move. Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, but she cannot seem to make a sound. She stands there frozen. Rhaegar mirrors her. And so they remain until somehow the woman finds enough of her voice to let out a shriek.
Rhaegar's confusion is quickly to be removed. The horse seems to hold a fondness for its mistress' hair. "Does this look like straw to you?" she yells at the animal, trying to pull away. But by raising her voice she seems to have startled it.
xvii. Rhaegar helps her because it is the right thing to do – but not before taking the time to let himself be amused. It's not an easy task as he isn't all that great with horses, especially untrained ones like the colt who has developed such an affection for the maiden's hair. Yet Rhaegar cannot figure out just how he could've confused wit with straw. It may be straight, but the colour is dark and it is not at all rough.
By the time he manages to convince the animal to let go, the lady has stopped shaking and seems to have retreated into a space all of her own. She barely even notices when her hair is free. Rhaegar actually has to call her attention.
He expects to be thanked, or at least given a name – and right so, he has spent the better part of an hour helping her. But it seems the maiden is of another opinion for her eyes widen, her face turns – a rather fetching – shade of red and she turns around and bounds away. She is fast on her feet, he'll give her that.
The Prince looks after her and blinks slowly. "What in the name of the Seven?" He looks at the horse. "I don't think she likes you very much."
xviii. He will not think about the mysterious lady from the stables, Rhaegar tells himself as he waits to meet the next woman his mother wants him to consider. But Rhaegar has always liked a good mystery. He cannot help it that his mind itches to know who that woman is. The evening is a struggle. He wants nothing more than to send this girl back to her rooms, pretend an illness or a sudden bout of anything. How can women talk so much and yet say so little? She is good looking, aye, but her conversation leaves something to be desired.
There are flowers in her hair. She is blonde, a light shade, and the flowers are white. He should compliment her on those. If he can pitch a word in that is. The woman hardly seems to mind his silence, but thankfully she keep well away from him. He thinks that she rather had someone waiting for her already.
"You should have refused the invitation," he says. "It could have hardly been expected of you to break a contract of long standing. Even an unspoken one."
"My parents certainly seemed to be of a different opinion." But she thanks him profusely for his understanding and benevolence – and Rhaegar is baffled, because such qualities should not be an exception.
xix. Arthur tries to act like he is not interested. "And why exactly are we standing here?" He sits on a lump of hay, not at all bothered by Rhaegar's pacing. "You should probably slow down, and the stable hands are starting to stare."
"Let them," Rhaegar responds. "So you haven't been able to find out anything at all?"
"Nay. It would surprise even you to know how many dark haired women pass through here." The sarcasm is not lost on Rhaegar, but he chooses not to retaliate, which only leaves Arthur the option of going on. "She is one of the ladies, so you'll eventually meet her. Why are you in such a hurry?"
"So you could ask me." This makes his friend pause. "I do not like not knowing."
"Aye, that is quite clear. But she is not likely to be back here. Didn't you say she ran from you as if the hounds of hell were chasing her?" Arthur laughs much to Rhaegar's vexation.
"If you weren't one of my oldest friends, I would have you flogged," he tells the other man. They both know those are empty words.
"If I didn't know you any better, I might just think you would."
xx. Rhaella seems to have a special talent of knowing when her children try to hide something from her. Matters are no different when it comes to her firstborn. "Have you met anyone you would consider acceptable?"
Rhaegar chews slowly – perhaps ever slower, just so he can have a few more moments to think. Rhaella allows him this short moment s of peace. "They are all of them accomplished young ladies. I am quite unable to say anything concrete."
"Then why exactly do I hear you are looking for a particular young lady among them?" She's caught him. By the look on his face he hadn't expected this. Even when they think they are subtle, men aren't.
"I have my reasons," her son finally says. "And I won't be discussing them anytime soon, lady mother."
So she allows him to keep his secrets awhile longer. This interest of his in a young lady is nothing short of encouraging. Content for now, she return to the food on her plate. But she does give her husband a triumphant look. Aerys looks decidedly uncomfortable. No doubt he is once more disconcerted by his wife's scheming. He should've known her by now. He looks just about ready to give up on her.
