Ring.
The tinkling of chimes fluttered in the air, alerting me of a potential customer. I glanced up from my perch by the counter. He was not a regular – then again, hardly anyone visited the shop, being this far out of town – and he stood by the doorway, hesitating whether to come inside or not. The light filtered in gently behind him and illuminated his handsome features. He was tall, with a straight spine, and somewhat stiff-looking despite his casual clothes. He was very fair of face, and from his head flowed silver hair that reached to his shoulders and shimmered in the sunlight like the real precious metal. But, what I was most in awe of were his breathtaking, beautiful eyes. They were two pools of dark violet, and it felt like drowning when I looked into those mesmerizing eyes.
He seemed to me a proud, but sorrowful man.
I did not speak, only stared as he finally made his mind to step inside. He moved towards the shelves and disappeared, and I turned back to my paper with a rustle.
"Excuse me, I'd like to make a purchase."'
I glanced up to see the man looming over me silver hair cascading down like a waterfall. I swallowed and said, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
He procured a lighter and a cigarette box. "I'd like to buy these."
I checked the items and related the prices to him. He searched his pockets, then paused and looked at me sheepishly, saying, "Um, it would seem I've forgotten my wallet."
"That's alright," I said slowly, standing up to place the lighter and cigarette box in a drawer, my back facing the customer, "Come back another time with your money. I'll place these in a safe spot so you can get them again."
I turned around to smile kindly at him to assure that he had done nothing wrong, only to find no one there.
"Grandmother, how come no one comes to the shop?"
Arya Flint craned her neck to peer down at her little granddaughter, a glint in her eye.
"Who in their right minds would travel all the way out here?" She rasped, "There is nothing here for people to enjoy, 'cept for the cliffs and the sea." At this, she gazed out the open door with sorrowful eyes.
"Then, how come the bus stops by here?"
The elderly woman lounged back in her chair, creaking, and did not answer immediately, only gazed silently on. A breeze rolled in like a benevolent tide, scenting the shop with the smell of salt and brine and stirred the calendar that hung near the back wall.
Then, Arya Flint whispered: "The buss carries people who have nowhere else to turn to but the cliffs."
With a click, the fan whirred to life and blew blessed cool air over my face.
"You ought to install an air conditioning system in here," Benjen complained as he stalked over and not-so-gently shoved me to the side.
"Hey! Watch who you're pushing!" I snapped and shoved him back.
We shuffled a bit, each trying to claim the chair in front of the fan, before coming to a truce so that we each shared a half of the seat. The fan whirred on quietly as we fell into a comfortable silence, content for the time being. Outside, the afternoon sun blazed like the devil. I shut my lids and pitied the person who could not find shade on this blistering hot day.
"Lyanna?"
"…Mmm?" I mumbled hazily.
"Who's that man?"
I blinked my eyes open and turned my gaze towards the shop entrance.
"Welcome back, sir. Did you bring your money this time?" I said, smiling lazily.
He came back again, and again, and again, always merely searching, and always with the same profound, lost look in his dark eyes and in the manner he carried himself, like a boat stranded out at sea. I'd sit by the counter and catch glimpses of his silvery hair as he perused the shelves. Sometimes, our gazes would meet, then brush away. The summer days creeped on almost unnoticed, an incessant heat. No one else visited the shop the rest of the summer.
The telephone rang, a shock to the indolent atmosphere that seemed to always characterize summer here. I surfaced from my afternoon nap with a catlike yawn and stretched my arms skywards. Then, in a slow, fluid movement, I rose up out of bed and padded down the hall towards the still-ringing telephone.
"Lyanna, Mother s'been hospitalized, though it seems it isn't serious. Either way, Father wants you to come back home." It was Ned's voice that floated through the receiver.
"Okay," I said calmly, "I'll be home by the end of the week. Tell Mother I hope she feels better soon."
"Oh, and how long does Father expect me to stay?"
For the first time that summer, rain fell down in big, fat drops, staining the earth with puddles. I didn't expect for the silver-haired-and-violet-eyed man to come in this weather, but came he did, drenched from head to toe.
The rain, I decided, made him seem more melancholic – positively depressed, in fact, that I was afraid to tell him: "I have to head home for a week, so the shop will be closed for a week."
Somewhere among all the clutter in the shop's closet, I found a towel and offered it to him.
"Sit down for a bit. I'll brew us some tea."
He seemed to take the news well enough, with little more than a raise of his eyebrows, before they descended once more to their usual resting position and he was looking at me blankly once more as he sat across from me.
I observed him from this close angle. His silver hair held a pretty, moist sheen to it, and little droplets rolled off from the tips. His soaked shirt became see-through, revealing a lean chest and stomach and – I quickly averted my eyes and with some difficulty, said, "L-let me get you a clean, dry shirt."
A shirt was located and once he changed, I felt more comfortable to speak again.
"You can return the shirt once I return."
He was looking out the door forlornly, but he gave a small nod to indicate that he heard.
"Actually, you can always come back here. I'm sure this shop is much more appealing than the cliffs."
At this, he swiveled around sharply to face me, lovely violet eyes widening. His lips parted.
"You knew," He breathed in awe.
"My grandmother owned this shop," I said nonchalantly and took a sip of tea, "She told me that most people come by this far because of the cliffs."
He chucked, as if unbelieving. It was followed by a name.
"I'll see you in a week, then, Rhaegar."
The moment I caught sight of Ned's familiar face, my own broke into a wide grin.
"Ned!" I cried happily.
I rushed over as speedily as I could with a suitcase in tow and threw myself into Ned's waiting arms. They encased me like a warm cocoon, and I was the happiest girl alive.
"Oh Lya," I heard him murmur into my hair, "Welcome back, dearest sister."
I laughed as I disentangled myself from second – and favorite – brother, and said breathlessly, "Of course I am your dearest sister, unless we have another sibling I did not know about?"
Ned smiled warmly at me, the one he reserved for his little sister, and I could not help but give him another hug.
"Oh Ned, it is so good to see you again."
At the hospital room, I exchanged hugs and kisses with Mother and Benjen.
"Oh my sweetpea," my mother said in between pecks on both my cheeks, "I've missed you so much!"
I patiently waited for Mother to finish her fussing before I could step back to rejoin my brothers. She beamed at us, positively glowing as she surveyed her three youngest. Eventually, her eyes concentrated on me again with a mischievous twinkle, and when her mouth began to move, I knew right then that she would –
"Lyanna, sweetpea…Do you have anyone in mind? A beau? Because you – ."
"Mother!" I interjected swiftly, glaring. "There is no one!"
Benjen did not help matters: "Oh, I wouldn't be quite sure about that. What about that man I saw last time at the shop?"
I swung furiously to face him, and the smirk on his face only raised my ire. Ned observed quietly from the sidelines with a curious expression.
"He is not my boyfriend!" I growled.
Knock knock.
We fell silent as the door opened to reveal Rickard Stark, patriarch of the family.
"What's this about boyfriends?" emanated Brandon's voice from behind our father, breaking the silence.
Father's study had not changed in all these years. It remained the same since my childhood, except for the dust that seemed to be collecting at the corners. At the old oak desk sat the imposing figure of my father, spine still ruler-straight, though the wrinkles on his face betrayed his age. He had his profile to me as I strode rigidly in and paused before the desk.
"Sit." He commanded, gesturing at a chair.
I remained rooted in my spot, staring. His eyes shifted towards me at the refusal, before he spoke without inflection, "You are still keeping that shack of a shop open." It was a statement, not a question.
"I am," came my clipped answer.
He responded in kind with a disdained hmph and crossed his arms across his chest as he swiveled in his chair to gradually face me.
"I am still opposed to this nonsense," He began, piercing me with a hawkish gaze, "As a matter of fact, I am planning to sell the property soon."
My stomach lurched, but I held my composure.
"I find it hard to believe that someone is interested in buying grandmother's, as you call it, 'shack of a shop.'" I retorted, even lifted my chin in contempt.
My father supplied a speedy answer: "Someone has already called me the other day about it and offered an agreeable price. He wanted the plot of land, you see."
Lies, I thought, but my father's tone suggested otherwise. I smoothed down the legs of my pants to sedate my nerves even as my mind conjured millions of scenarios. My father observed me quietly, then: "I have not yet accepted the offer yet."
I glanced up sharply.
"I am a reasonable man, Lyanna, and you are my only daughter."
"Just tell me what you want from me," I cut in irritably, narrowing my eyes at my father.
"It is very simple. You may keep the shop if you find a husband within a year. My daughter is already 27, nearly 28, and before long 30…and still unmarried. It is about time you started thinking about settling down."
When I heard the door shut behind me with a loud click, I exhaled deeply, releasing the breath I had unknowingly held through the duration of the ordeal.
Darkness had overtaken the sky by the time the bus had dropped me off at the peninsula stop. I thanked the driver and hopped off. Then, staring into the distance, barely discerning the outline of the shop in the dim light of the single street light, I began the walk home, seemingly longer than before.
He was waiting for me even then, the way a dog waits for his master. He moved to intercept me as I approached the shop's entrance.
"What are you doing here Rhaegar?"
He sighed and leaned over, his forehead pressed against my right shoulder.
"A week felt like eternity," He murmured into my collarbone.
Something clicked in that moment, the way the final piece of a puzzle fell into place. When Rhaegar leaned back to gauge my reaction, I graced him a light smile and beckoned him inside.
"There's something you ought to know," Rhaegar said as I settled down beside him with two steaming mugs in hand.
"Tea?" I said, offering a cup.
He nodded and accepted the hot drink. He tested the temperature and finding it too hot for his tastes, set it down on the coffee table.
"Lyanna?"
I glanced up and made eye contact as I sipped my tea calmly, communicating that I was listening.
"I'd understand if you no longer wish to have anything to do with me after what I'm about to say."
I raised an eyebrow, and though Rhaegar's facial expression appeared utterly serene, the glint in his eyes conveyed his urgency. From his pocket he procured a gold band, the universal symbol of commitment.
The tea I'd been sipping suddenly tasted sour on my tongue.
We stood in silent darkness, save for the low buzzing of cicadas in the distance, waiting for the last bus to come around.
"I'm sorry, but please leave me alone for a while," I rasped, refusing to look at Rhaegar.
He was still holding my hand, grasping it gingerly as if my hand were made of glass, and gazing wistfully at me. But it was Rhaegar who seemed vulnerable, in my opinion. The same fragile sadness that I had perceived the time I first laid eyes on him pervaded the entirety of Rhaegar now.
Rhaegar understood that my feelings were thrown into turmoil from his announcement, and as bright headlights blinked into view from the darkness, he whispered, "The only one who should be sorry is me."
Slowly, he opened my palm and placed a small piece of paper on it, then closed my fingers over his little gift before I could investigate. Finally, he relinquished his hold on me.
When I was alone again and I could no longer see the headlights of the bus, I peered down at my palm to see what Rhaegar had left behind.
It was his number.
I had half a mind to toss away the scrap of paper right then and there, and let the wind carry it far away. After all, words were wind. And yet, my heart tugged at the thought of letting go of the quiet man who wandered into my shop by the cliffs one summer day.
The voice at the end was achingly familiar. Separation really did seem to make another dearer to one's heart.
"It has been a while," came his low drawl, "A week and three days to be exact."
My immediate response was: "I didn't think you'd keep track."
"In that case, you were wrong." An awkward silence developed. Then: "I…wasn't sure if you'd call me."
"I want to talk. Can we meet up?"
The familiar tinkle of chimes set my heartbeat racing, my breath hitching, as I looked up from the counter. He stepped into view, sunlight framing him lovingly much like the way he first appeared to me at my doorstep. He looked at me, a tentative smile gracing his features as he stepped towards me.
I cut right to the chase.
"Since we are being honest right now, allow me to say this: My father intends to close my shop unless I find a husband."
Rhaegar paused, blinking.
"Lyanna…"
I turned my head away and stared at the fan, unused and collecting dust now with the cooling weather.
"I want a relationship with the intent of marriage. Otherwise, you may leave," I said firmly.
A clock ticked quietly and I clenched my fists. When Rhaegar finally spoke, his voice floated by my ear. "Lyanna, look at me."
I slowly tilted my head to find his face inches from mine. His beautiful, fathomless eyes peered into mine, open, inviting, promising. He reached for my fists and unclenched them, brushing his fingers over my knuckles.
"I can do it," he whispered, bringing his forehead to mine. "For you, Lyanna, I will."
I closed my eyes and shuddered with relief.
Author's note:
Found this work on my laptop. I'm not decided yet whether I will continue this fic. I'll just post this for now.
This work started off inspired by one of the stories in the manga Filament and sort of evolved into something else.