i. "I'll kill that whoreson!" Brandon yelled, his young bride trailing in after him, face pale and lips trembling. "He even dared pretend that he knew nothing of this." His eyes pinned Lyanna to the bed. "And you – you little fool. You would just lift your skirts for anyone?"

Unresponsive but for a vacant look, Lyanna rested against the pillows. She'd been dressed in a scratchy old kirtle, its colour faded, the hem ratty.

"Brandon, enough," came the voice of the tall redhead. "Have some pity." Her name was Catelyn Tully, if Lyanna remembered correctly. No longer a mere trout apparently.

ii. Ned was more sympathetic, but no less cold. He did not even look at her children. In fact, his whole frame exuded disappointment. In her. Lyanna did not dare offer an apology. "I shall see you safely to King's Landing."

"Lord Stark would allow it?" she asked in a small voice.

"Lord Stark," Ned spoke harshly, "would have you out of his home as soon as possible." He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. "See what this has earned you, sister?"

"You have no sister," Lyanna countered. Her heart bled. "I thought to name them, but nothing fits."

Ned's lips parted, as if to speak. He didn't.

iii. Rickard Stark gave her a horse. Her own horse to be exact. Lyanna took the reins from his hand. He said not one word to her. Daringly, her hand shot out after him, touching his elbow. With a curse, he turned to face her. "You live because the father of your children holds some sway yet, but do not mistake it for something it is not."

Mouth dry, Lyanna nodded her head. He meant what he'd said, she knew. Lowering her head once more, she crawled into her self-imposed prison, a skin too tight and small for her. She was at fault, after all.

iv. Waking up in the middle of the night disoriented and frightened, Lyanna frantically searched for the babes, thinking they might have crawled away as she slept. Or mayhap her father's men had taken them from her to drown the children in the river.

But nay, just as she ran out of the crude tent that had been given to her, she saw Ned sitting by the fire with the nursemaid.

Tentatively, Lyanna drew closer to the light. She sat down quietly, a few steps away, and looked with interest to her brother's face. Ned was peering at the boy in his hold, a thoughtfulness colouring his features.

v. The water was cool against her skin, sliding down her neck. Lyanna shivered in the cold air. The summer had not lasted. 'Twas winter again.

"Come, enough for now," Ned called to her. "We have to move on." So far, he had been mindful of her state – somewhat fragile – and their journey had been slow. But the nights were growing longer and the weather colder. They had to make haste.

Climbing to her feet, Lyanna hurried back, her still wet hands cold as ice. She was helped back onto her horse. Her two children slept, unknowing of what went on.

vi. "You're still my sister." The affirmation did not bring tears to her eyes, nor did it wake in her some unknown emotion until that point. Yet her heart filled with warmth. She continued to stare at him, the fire flickering strange shadows on his face. "Whatever father may say, whatever you may have done, you are still my sister." His eyes grew sad and sadder still. "I cannot help you with this, Lya."

"I don't require your help, Ned. I wouldn't ask even if I did." After all, she did know her place. She was, however, grateful for the sentiment.

vii. Warmth slid against her back and Lyanna found herself being enveloped in her brother's protective hold. He used to do that when they were little too, sometimes, when she'd wake up from nasty dreams, sweat running down her brow. But then she'd been a child.

"Ned?" her voice sounded out softly in the darkness. The boy moved, his small foot landing on Ned's hand. Lyanna felt it against her stomach.

Lyanna closed her eyes and relaxed as her back pressed tightly against his chest. She laced her fingers through his. "My brother."

"My sister," he replied.

And the rest was darkness.

viii. King's Landing loomed ahead. Lyanna wrinkled her nose and the girl wailed in her arms. "She's been sick these past few days," she complained to the nursemaid.

"There's nothing for it. Poor dear, she'll be better once she's been fed," the woman volunteered, a kind look on her thin face.

Lyanna sighed. It wasn't feeding that she needed, but a maester. But that she could not say. Lyanna pressed a kiss to the child's head. "Here, give me her brother," she asked of the nursemaid.

The woman handed her the boy and took the girl from her arms. Lyanna kissed her son too.

ix. The guards at the gate gave them long looks, leering at Lyanna as if she were something to be stared at. They'd jeer after she was out of sight, Lyanna knew. Many people have. It was her fate, for the bore the marks of her sin.

Lyanna stared into their eyes, defiance flaring in her gaze.

Ned, though, would not allow them to linger. He pulled on the reins of Lyanna's horse. "Come. 'Tis time to say our farewells."

It was only until the gates that he was to see her – so father had ordered. The rest of the road was her own.

x. Arthur caught the man's hand just as it was about to rain down another blow on the crouching women. "What do you think you are doing, guard?" He almost snapped the man's wrist when a pair of familiar eyes looked up at him. "Lyanna Stark." It wasn't a question.

"Just Lyanna." He helped her up. "I must see His Grace."

"Of course." The children is her arms fussed and trembled, twin faces going red. The young mother cooed softly at them, offering him an apologetic smile.

"They must be hungry," she said.

Speechless, Arthur could only shake his head and lead her away. It looked like his dearest friend had at least one of his wishes fulfilled.