Rickard Stark stared dumbfounded at his trusted maester not quite knowing what to say. In the fashion of confused men, he leaned back in his chair, his sturdy frame making the wood screech in protest. "My daughter? A second wife to the Prince?"

Walys nodded his head in a sombre manner befitting his position. "Lord Baratheon should be wedding his conquest soon enough. That leaves our own Lady Lyanna unwed and worse even, at the mercy of speculation. You know very well the nature of man." Well enough to conclude that Lyanna needed to a wedding of her own or at least a betrothal.

"If I did consent to this," Rickard began, clearing his throat, mayhap for emphasis, "then I should not rest easy in the knowledge that my daughter might be part of a marital conflict. The Dornish Princess is unlikely to accept her husband's scheme."

"The King shall enforce the validity of this second union if needed. And House Stark has much to win. The bride price shall be nothing in comparison to having Lady Lyanna's son sit the throne someday." There was a clear enough point that the maester made.

Rickard frowned. "That might well be. Or it might not. You would have me risk my daughter's life in an endeavour that could bring our ruin about."

"Certain risks must be taken," the maester allowed, "but the rewards are sure to make up for any inconvenience. The King shall be expecting an answer to this proposal, my lord."


Ever aware of the fact that her reprieve was drawing to a timely end, Lyanna shook her skirts out and hastened to smooth over any crease upon the dark folds. On this day, mere moments from now, she would be attending the ceremony which would act as her saviour and protector from any of Robert's mischief for as long as Lady Myrelle lived – which Lyanna wished would be for a long, long time, were anyone to ask her.

Father had yet to write with further instructions, so Lyanna had been allowed by Brandon, and altogether encouraged by Lord Arryn, to participate in the wedding of Robert Baratheon and Myrelle Longthrope. She had agreed if only because she could ill-afford to be anything but polite for the sake of her own standing.

Much to her delight, Brandon and Eddard had aided the soon-to-be husband in his preparations. Lyanna could clearly make out the bruise on the man's chin. The bride looked radiant, bathed in the weak light streaming through the windows, and her smile was quite telling as she was being walked down the aisle by her rather portly father who had exerted himself in a bid to reach the Eyrie in time for the wedding.

The septon waited patiently for the couple to reach their assigned positions and then opened his time. "'Tis for show," Elbert whispered. "The man can barely read his own name." It did not matter as much as having the deed done.

"So long as he can speak the right words."


Ashara sighed softly and picked the little Princess up in her arms. Balerion scurried past her feet, no doubt in search for food, or possibly some far juicy rat to gnaw on. Shuddering in revulsion at the thought, Ashara adjusted her grip on Rhaenys. "Let us make for the nursery, aye, Your Grace? 'Tis high time to sleep."

"But I am not sleepy," the child protested. "I want to stay with mother."

Glancing over her shoulder Ashara was treated to the sight of Elia shaking her head tiredly. "I'm afraid that it is not possible. Come along now." Any further protests were pointedly ignored. In the hallway one of the septas was already waiting to take the Princess from the companion's arms.

Having returned to her mistress' side, Ashara sat down in one of the chairs near the bed. "There seems to be no solution to this, Your Grace. The Prince is determined." She refused to speak her mind on the matter, for likely Elia Martell would not appreciate the harsh truth.

Elia crossed her arms before her. "He would have me share the position as his wife with a Northerner savage." A very pretty Northerner savage with no objectionable behaviour Ashara could call to mind. Te lady-in-waiting was forced to nod. "I have written to Doran, of course. But he had yet to reply."

"He shall, I daresay." What could Doran do though, Ashara wondered. If the King sanctioned the union and the words were spoken before a septon, Lyanna Stark would be Rhaegar's wife whether Elia agreed to it or not.


"It would be best if the wedding took place in Baelor's Sept," Rhaella spoke, looking up from her letter. Ink continued to flow. "Lord Stark's letter should have arrived to his daughter by now. I daresay she will expect as much of us." The Queen folded the paper and sealed it close. "I am still unsure of her suitability."

"You've not met her, lady mother." Rhaegar took the letter from her and held it out to one of her ladies-in-waiting. Rhaella had not been permitted to join him and his father at the tourney. "You shall understand better once she is before you."

To that the Queen knew not what to say. Her son was not a fool; it was unusual for him to be led by something other than his bran, but in this, she perceived that the heart had its part as well in the choice he had made. It was not necessarily something to be frightened at. Certainly such birthed beneficial situations. But the opposite might be true as well.

It all depended on Lyanna Stark. Whether the girl her son had chosen was strong enough to bear the responsibility and all else that came with it or not; that was the matter at hand. It was not an easy path, not for any of those involved. But perhaps the right was not the easy way.

"As long as you are certain." She took his hand. "You have my full support."Rhaella had little choice but to trust in him, after all.


Brandon snarled, his eyes fixed upon their father's letter. "I cannot credit this. Father would not ask something like this of you." For her part Lyanna busied herself with analysing the situation and the potential it held. "I know that look upon your face," he continued, a wealth of warning in his voice.

"And I know you do not approve, but until half a moon's turn past you were in agreement with Ned that Robert would make me a fine husband." At that her eldest brother paled. He did not enjoy being called out on his mistakes. Lyanna smiled in a manner that suggested she did not hold him accountable in any way for it. "In any event, this is not a request. This is a decision."

"But a second wife?" Lyanna had not known her brother to be so easily scandalised. But apparently, Brandon was. "That is little better than being the man's mistress."

"Except that out union shall be valid in the eyes of the Faith and my children shall benefit fully from this. Were I to have a son by His Grace, that child would one day inherit the throne." The she-wolf could not help but b e amused at the look on her brother's face. "You do not have a head for politics, brother mine."

"Apparently you have enough for the both of us." He was not best pleased, that much was certain. "What of the alternative. What if you cannot give him a son?"

"We must always take the good along with the bad."


"You can refuse," Catelyn told her, much like others have done before her. "You needn't accept the King's summons if you do not will it. Your family shan't abandon you."

"But my family would suffer for it." Lyanna gave a soft half-smile towards her good-sister. "You've heard the whispers. Were I to remain a maiden in my father's home you can be assured that they would only grow louder. 'Tis best to stave then now, when they are yet quiet."

"Does it not bother you at all then? That you should be used merely to provide the Prince with an heir?" For a moment Lyanna had quite forgotten that Catelyn was a firm believer in songs. Of course, no one had yet told her about Barbrey Ryswell. And it was not Lyanna's place to at any rate.

"All women enter marriage with such a goal in mind. I am fond enough of children. Why, then, should having one of my own be perceived as offensive in any way?" She was well-aware that the Prince did not love her. She did not love him either. But he'd been kind to her at Harrenhal and Lyanna valued that for what it was. She could grow to love him.

"If you are certain, then I shall speak no more of it." Instead Catelyn too Lyanna in her arms, the manner of her embrace almost motherly despite their closeness in age. "Shall I help you pack then, little sister?"

"That would be very kind of you."


Her escort had arrived about half a moon's turn after her father's letter. Most of her belonging had been packed and Lyanna knew she could not linger much longer in Lord Arryn's home. Thus, she took a bit of time to ay her farewells to Eddard and Elbert and she even managed a half-hearted attempt at cordiality toward Robert and his new wife.

"If there is ever a moment when you've need of me," Eddard was saying, his arms still around her, "you must write. I shall be by your side as fast as I can." His concern was heart-warming but unwarranted. Lyanna knew well enough what she had set herself up for.

"I suspect you would. But be sensible, Ned. If you gallop off after me, Brandon would follow and that would land us in all manners of mischief." They laughed together silently. At the suspicious look on Brandon's face their noises of mirth grew louder. "I must away now."

Ned let her go reluctantly. Lyanna could but smile and give a small nod. She then climbed into the wheelhouse that was to convey her to King's Landing. It was likely to be a long road, made even longer by the presence of Brandon, who had been instructed in their father's letter to act as her keeper.

Still, some things had to be endured with dignity. Lyanna supposed it might have been worse. Father might have ridden with her himself.

The door of the wheelhouse closed and the sound of hooves splitting the earth reached here ears.


The King murmured something Rhaegar could not catch. It was perhaps for the best, as most of his father's comments tended to uncover those dark corners the son hadn't a wish to see. "Why are they so slow? It has been long enough already. Is Lord Stark trying to cheat the crown?"

"I am certain that travelling conditions have not been improved by current weather any since we've sent Ser Whent off," Rhaegar tried to calm the other man down. "They are on their way and shall be arriving soon." If the Seven were good, that was. Rhaegar was starting to grow irritated with the King. He was likely to lose his mind as well.

"You are much too trusting," his father scoffed. "All lords are the same. Turn your back on them just a moment and they shall betray you. You've much to learn."

Possibly, Rhaegar allowed, but it would certainly not be from his sire that he would learn. There was good in the world, though one had to search for it. He refused to believe otherwise. Lords, like all others, could be good or bad depending on the given situation.

"Mayhap it is so, Your Grace." He did not worry about Lyanna Stark's arrival though. Lord Stark knew very well not to attempt any trickery. And, of course, he trusted that Lyanna herself would not take part in such an act.

Something else came from the King's mouth which Rhaegar managed to ignore, difficult as that was.


The High Septon did not look particularly pleased to be officiating. Lyanna, however, had adopted a properly cheerful mien for the occasion. The wedding itself, being the Prince's second, was a private affair in that only those lords present in the capitol at the moment were to bear witness. It was understandable after a fashion. Lyanna consoled herself with the knowledge that she hadn't truly wished for a lavish wedding.

The vows she'd learned for her wedding to Robert were repeated in securing a union with another man entirely. It was for the best. Lyanna was certain he would be a kind husband to her, and if she never came to love him, then she would make do with the respect and admiration she already had for him.

In one of those strange moments when the world seemed to fold onto itself, fall to pieces and then come back together, he took her by the hand as the High Septon bound them together with a piece of cloth. And she knew that even if the white ribbon came apart, the bond would endure. How it was that she'd reached the conclusion the she-wolf could not be certain.

"It is done," her husband said after he'd pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"It is done," Lyanna echoed.

They shared a long look and eventually a smile. Lyanna was glad that he did not let go of her hand even as the white band was unfastened.

The rest was a blur.


She woke up in the middle of the night because of the unfamiliarity of the form behind her. Lyanna had shared a bed before, but not with a man and certainly not for the purpose of procreating. Such thought conjured a blush. It was little wonder children kept coming into the world given the begetting was so pleasant.

But mayhap it had to do with one's partner as much as with the nature of it. She had the faint conviction that had it been another man beside her she would not have felt quite the same for whatever reason.

Rhaegar stirred behind her. The arms encircling her waist moved slightly, skin sliding against skin. Lyanna shivered, pursing her lips. She pressed backwards in search for heat and was not disappointed. It was to be hoped that she did not disturb his rest, but she truly would not mind if he would wake.

As if her thoughts had been spoken out loud, her husband's whole frame tensed suddenly, only to relax after a few moments. Lyanna held her breath.

"You should be sleeping." It was more a whisper than anything else, threading through her unbound hair to reach her ear. When she gave no answer, he turned her around gently. "Is something amiss?" He seemed curious rather than worried.

The she-wolf could but shrug. There was nothing amiss, to be sure. "I am not accustomed to," she trailed off, her mind furiously searching for the right word. Nothing came. But she was swiftly distracted by a kiss pressed to her lips.


The song of the sea, wave crashing into wave sinking into the fathomless depths of the water body, played somewhere in the vicinity and the sound of human life came from above. The wooden boards creaked. Rhaegar opened his eyes slowly. The slight form curled up against him did not stir at all.

She'd come to him in the middle of the night, no doubt a little frightened by the storm that had broken out. Lyanna had told him that she'd not travelled by sea. The violent rocking of the vessel had had her fumbling through the dark to find her way to him. Not that Rhaegar had been anything but welcoming.

And now he was looking down at her, noting her face was a little too pale and thinking that his poor lady wife had yet to find her sea legs. Deciding against waking her, he slid out of bed and dressed for the cooler climate of the surface. Rhaegar drew the covers higher, just beneath her chin. With one last look to Lyanna, he fastened his cloak on and left the room, behind him remaining the slumbering she-wolf.

Upon deck the sailor were enjoying the feeble light of the sun spearing shafts of light through the weak mist that rolled on by. They were busy men and the though they did bow respectfully, none had time to entertain him with conversation. Which Rhaegar was not at all bereaved because; he was much too taken with the familiar sight of the sea stretching out before him to mind the lack of conversation.


What woke her was her own stomach squeezing painfully because of lack of nourishment. Lyanna had not hand an easy time making the journey to Dragonstone, nor did she wish to repeat the whole of it anytime soon. Thankfully this day would be her last at sea for some time. The sailors had called her ailment sea-sickness and while it was better below deck, she did wish she could inhabit the upper world without heaving.

Lyanna stretched out beneath the covering and was mildly surprised to register that the weight supposed to be beside her was gone. She knew that Rhaegar found it difficult to fall asleep and when he did, he was a light sleeper. It should not have astounded, yet she'd been half hoping to find him still with her.

Still, it would not do to wallow. Besides, she was in need of food. On rather shaky legs, she climbed out of bed, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around her, as protection from both the cold and the eyes of strangers. She found her way to her own cabin through the connecting door.

Her trunk had moved several inches from where she'd left it. Lyanna could only blame it on the storm, since the door had been locked with key and chain. Kneeling by the wooden structure she pried the lid open and pulled out a heavy woollen dress with grey fur trimmings. That ought to keep her warm. Lyanna laid it on the bed and went about her usual routine.


Salty seawater sprayed upon the beams and floors. Lyanna reined in the peculiar feeling which stole upon her and forced herself to step out fully and walk towards her husband. He seemed content to watch the horizon.

"A fine morning," she greeted once gathering enough courage to speak. Rhaegar turned his head to look at her.

"Indeed," the soft agreement drew a smile from her. He offered his arm and Lyanna wasted not one moment in catching onto it. When he forwarded no other words, Lyanna was certain that he had no wish for conversation so she herself said nothing more.

It was a bit startling to be growing so close to a stranger in such a short time. Startling, but not inconceivable. He was, after all, the one person she had a tie to so far from her homeland. She leaned her head against him and closed her eyes, trying to stave off the dratted seasickness. It struck her that it would have been a pleasant experience had she not been afflicted as she was.

"No improvement?" The question, unexpected, made her open her eyes. Lyanna looked at him, for a moment not understanding.

"Ah, I fear not." She closed her eyes once more, but not for long.

"It might help if you focus on something else. Look there." Following the direction indicated, Lyanna was met with the horizon line. "One of the sailors swears by it."

Ever so slowly, the dizziness eased, leaving her better for it.

Lyanna smiled.


Rhaegar could see the relief on Lyanna's face when they finally made it to solid ground. That was quickly overshadowed by wonder. Dragonstone was famed for its keep of the same name. It was a feat of architecture, according to legend built with magic.

"I had no idea they would look quite so realistic," the she-wolf said, eyeing a wyvern as they passed the gates into the central courtyard. She pulled on the reins of her horse and the beast drew to a halt. Rhaegar followed her example before helping her down.

"I am certain you shall have ample time to explore, lady wife, once you are settled." And once he found why it was that Elia was notably absent. Her ladies-in-waiting stood before the oncoming party, greeting upon their lips, but there was no sight of his daughter or her mother.

"Your Grace," Ashara Dayne said, curtseying.

"Lady Ashara," it was Lyanna who spoke, as Rhaegar was yet studying the crowd and missed the smile of recognition which passed between the two women.

Before he could pose his question though, Ashara extended the proper excuse "Her Grace has been ordered to her bed by the maester else she would have been present."

"My daughter?" She was absent as well, after all.

"Caught a chill, Your Grace." Ashara winced.

He had known Elia was upset with him, but still, she should have told him as much by letter. Yet as it simply would not do to take his anger out on an innocent, Rhaegar waved her away. Beside him Lyanna has tensed slightly.


Quite capable of perceiving an insult when one was dealt, Lyanna knew very well what the Dornish Princess had done. She, however, bit the inside of her cheek in a bid to keep her anger in check. It could not be forgotten that the woman had recently lost a child.

"I shall speak to Elia," Rhaegar promised her as she was led inside.

"I doubt it would help matters at this point, Your Grace. I beg your pardon for presuming, but I think it should be left well alone." His intervention would only serve to further embitter his spouse. "These matters have a way of working themselves out."

Given that he had no answer for her, Lyanna could not tell whether he agreed or not. "I should like to greet Her Grace." If anything, it was best to establish her place in the household from the very beginning. Perhaps knowing her meaning, her husband gave a soft nod. "You needn't accompany me, Your Grace, I believe you would rather see the little Princess."

"You needn't fight any battle on your own," he told her, halting her progress with a firm grip on her shoulder.

Lyanna looked him in the eye as she made her reply. "This one I must. Your Grace should not interfere. There is tension enough as it is." She trusted that he knew she was right and pulled away from him. "I shall visit princess Rhaenys too afterwards."

With that, she turned to Lady Ashara who had been following close behind.


Elia was dumfounded. She was entirely certain her face fully reflected her present state. Before her stood the sole creature whose very existence vexed her beyond belief. "Lady Lyanna, is there no limit to your shamelessness?"

The girl's mien turned curious. "I fear I do not understand the question, Your Grace. I am simply come to offer greeting." That was even more annoying. How could she possibly be so calm? "I hope Your Grace will be feeling better soon." She curtsied.

Pursing her lips, Elia threw her a stern glance. "I cannot credit this, Lady Lyanna. You dare come between me and my husband and expect that I should become close to you upon your arrival?"

"Of course not," the she-wolf snorted, her expression a wall. "Your Grace mistakes my intention. I do not wish for your friendship. Yet as we are to share an existence, as it were, I will not accept anything less than civility. That was what I wished to make clear."

Teeth grinding together, the Dornish Princess released a trembling hiss. "You are not welcome in my rooms, my lady, and should I see you here again, I will not hesitate to call the guards."

"As Your Grace wills it." Lyanna Stark offered one last curtsey before making her way out the door.

Ashara poked her head in. "His Grace is visiting with his daughter," she announced softly, in response to an earlier question Elia had had about her husband's whereabouts.

At the very least he hadn't forgotten about their daughter.


It was a mild chill she had nearly overcome, the maester had assure4d him. Rhaenys did indeed look healthy enough, but for the scratchiness of her voice. "A few more days abed and she should be right as rain." That was comforting in any event. Rhaegar wondered when Lyanna would be arriving.

As if summoned, the door opened to admit his new wife into the bedchamber. Rhaegar looked at her over his shoulder. She offered him a smile to which he replied in kind, but her attention was quickly taken by the child beneath the coverings who was watching her with curiosity.

"Mother said I should not speak to you," the child blurted out.

Rhaegar held back a sigh and prayed the gods for patience. Lyanna on the other hand simply sat down opposite him and began speaking to his daughter. "But do you not wish to speak to me?"

Rhaenys' mien told of concentration. "I do not know. You seem nice. But mother said not to."

"That would be a pity indeed," the she-wolf chuckled. "I thought you would wish to be my friend. I always wanted a close friend when I was your age."

His daughter's eyes grew wide. "We may be friends?" The question had been addressed to him. "Even if mother says not to?"

"Certainly you may. In fact, I should be very happy if you were." Rhaegar looked at Lyanna to see her nodding her head encouragingly.

"Friends then, Your Grace?" she questioned.

His daughter gave a shy nod of her own.


Accommodating to life on Dragonstone was not as difficult as Lyanna had envisioned. In fact, not even Elia Martell and her dark moods mattered all that much. Rhaegar had indeed had a conversation with his wife. Lyanna knew not what had been said, nor did she particularly wish to find out. The result, however, was that Elia saw to Rhaenys and her needs and rarely had any reason to be thrown together with Lyanna.

Given the Dornish Princess' somewhat still precarious health, Lyanna had taken to the running of the keep with the present maester's aid, or rather under his supervision. Her days were thus filled with numerous troubles that needed her attention, occasional audiences with visiting ladies, answering ravens and sending out messages when needed and at times she could even be found in her husband's solar helping Rhaegar at his request. It was fulfilling and rewarding enough for the she-wolf to be glad with her choice.

Rhaenys would from time to time be allowed in her company, but not very much. Elia did not like it and despite attempts to improve the relationship between them, the Dornishwoman proved reticent and Lyanna uninterested. In the end, the message was clearly understood by all.

But, as friendship was rarely needed to for a household to prosper and all had their roles to fill, no on gave the issue too much interest, least of all Lyanna and Elia, who were both content it would seem to see as little as possible of each other.


It started, like all important matters, with a mundane instance. She had been walking the halls of Dragonstone for a little over five moon's turns when, quite suddenly and inexplicably, while enjoying her supper the scent of fish caught her attention.

Roasted fish was certainly not among her favourite dishes, but Lyanna had never been much of a fussy eater. Yet the mere scent of it had never made her nauseous. There were a few causes that might have brought the manifestation on, ranging from an upset stomach to a much awaited and eagerly anticipated pregnancy. Lyanna had simply pushed the fish away and continued her meal, determined to gain further evidence.

The mildly irritating feeling persisted and it was soon joined by sore breasts and eventually a lack of flux. The maester, when asked, confirmed her suspicions. She was also warned about certain perils and given too many suggestions to remember. What Lyanna took away was that she was indeed with child.

Not in possession of a vast amount of patience, Lyanna was naturally compelled to share the joyful news with her husband. Rhaegar had refrained from asking her anything regarding her condition, but he had made it clear that he was interested in knowing of it when it happened.

So, doing much as she had been instructed to, Lyanna sought Rhaegar out in his bedchamber. Unfortunately, he was not there. The she-wolf took herself off to the solar and upon entering found Rhaegar hard at work. He looked up, murmuring what seemed to be an acknowledgment.

Lyanna answered him this, "Your Grace, I am with child."


Elia held Rhaenys in her arms, the child sleeping with her head resting against her mother's shoulder. Rhaegar could not tell what had made her join him in his solar; he could only suppose it was understanding. But he'd not asked and she did not volunteer any information. Instead, she waited with him, in silence, for the maester to bring news of the birth of another dragonling.

Rhaenys had been up all day, convinced that her sibling would come any minute. In the end she'd exhausted herself into early slumber and that had left her parents to their own thoughts. For his own part, Rhaegar was fats losing his patience. He supposed it was an affliction which plagued all awaiting fathers, yet the Prince couldn't shake off the fear that history would just repeat itself. Or worse.

Thankfully, the Seven seemed to be in a merciful mood. His wait did not hold much longer. The maester was standing in the doorway before long, creased face relaxed in contentment. "Lady Lyanna had been delivered of a male child."

And that was all he truly needed to know before nodding towards Elia and taking off to see his newborn son and the undoubtedly proud mother.

Washed and cleaned, all evidence of labour removed but for the fatigue marring her features, Lyanna awaited him with their son held in her arms. The boy was feeding, paying no mind to the world around him, even though all eyes were upon him.

Rhaegar approached silently, barely noting the encouraging smile on Lyanna's face. His vision was suddenly blurred.