I've polished this chapter, so it would be a bit more concise in conversation and setting.
This Chapter was edited on : August 13, 2018.
Lyanna stood frozen in the small courtyard of Storm's End. It was the dead of night, so dark she would barely see her hand if she raised it in front of her eyes. However, Lyanna's eyes were not on her hands. They weren't even gazing to the courtyard around. As usual, her eyes were watching the skies.
The moon was nearly full that night. Only a small sliver remained hidden from her gaze. By tomorrow it would be shining big and bright for all of Westeros to see. Not that many people in Westeros would take the time to notice. The lords were too busy with their battles and their wars, their marriages and their power. The common people were too busy breaking their backs to work the land and struggling for every coin to stay alive. None of them appreciated the small thing, even when the small things weren't so small.
Stars dim and bright blinked down at her. She liked to think it was a kind of acknowledgment. The gods, old or new, noticing that someone was staring up at them. Someone was appreciating their beautiful handiwork instead of just sucking it dry.
A quiet, contented sigh escaped Lyanna's lips. She felt trapped here in Storm's End. The high, thick walls felt more like her tomb than her protection. They closed in around her, just waiting for the day she finally took her last breath. The stone was cold and harsh; there was no warmth, no comfort in its existence. Far below she could hear the sound of the water beating against the rocks. Even the water, usually such a relaxation for her, was cruel here. The waves were too high to swim, and any boat that dared try and break for the sea would be pushed back to wreck against the cliffs. She hated this place; she would be damned to death before she let Ned force her into this hellish prison with only the stars for company.
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
Lyanna was too engrossed in her thoughts to bother jumping. It only took her a moment to register the voice and figure out who it was. "What is?" She asked, eyes still on the sky as the man approached her.
"The stars."
Lyanna's eyes came down, and she fixed her gaze on Prince Oberyn, if only for a brief moment. "Yes, I quite like them. They're of great comfort to me, especially here."
Oberyn met her gaze with a raised eyebrow, "And why is that, Lady Stark?"
With a small smile, she turned back to the sky, "Reminds me of the freedom I will never have, I suppose."
"Never?" A quiet chuckle fell from the prince's lips. "Surely you will get your freedom soon? When you marry and leave your father's house for your husband's you will be able to build a family of your own… There are rumors that Lord Robert is your betrothed, that you will find your freedom on this very spot."
"Yes, freedom," Lyanna scoffed at the idea. "I will be free from my father's watchful eye and placed under the brutish hand of whoever he sees fit to sell me to. I will leave the confines of the four stone walls of Winterfell. I will ride through the kingdoms to my new home. I will be put behind four different stone walls which will become my tomb till the day I die. While there I will wed the man who will force himself on me to get his precious heir and pleasure himself first but never me. I will risk my life to bare him as many children as he pleases, and he will throw me out like garbage the moment he's through with me. And so the cycle will continue, with my sons trained to die in their fathers petty feuds, with whichever heir survives their father becoming exactly like him, and with my daughters sold to the highest bidder like me."
Lyanna's eyes stayed transfixed on the stars. She meant every word, and she wouldn't take them back. She did not know Oberyn yet, but she had a feeling he would at least understand.
"In Dorne," Lyanna cautiously looked to Oberyn from the corner of her eye and saw he too kept his eyes on the stars, "we do not sell our woman in such a way. They are our equals. If they wish to marry, they marry their love. If they wish to fight, they learn to fight. If they wish their freedom," Oberyn looked over to Lyanna, catching her gazing sideways at him, "they are given freedom."
Lyanna sighed but was unable to remove her gaze from the alluring Dornishmen. "Then it is truly a shame that I will never see Dorne." Her face fell slightly at her next thought, "I will never know such a freedom."
"Don't judge so quickly, my lady," Oberyn countered. "A girl like you would fit in so well in Dorne." He offered Lyanna his hand with a smirk. "Come with me, perhaps I could be of assistance."
There was something almost predatory in his gaze, and for the first time since his arrival the day prior she understood why he was called the Red Viper. The look should've cautioned her, but something about it excited her. Men in the northern kingdoms did not look at ladies, or any women, like that. They looked on their wives with boredom. They looked on ladies with passive respect. They looked on whores with hunger. Anyone else was treated like one of those three depending on their looks. Oberyn seemed different though. He was predatory but not hungry, respectful but not passive, and certainly not bored. It was intriguing, and Lyanna found herself accepting his hand before she could stop herself.
Oberyn kissed the back of her hand gently before turning and guiding the girl along behind him. "You say you want freedom, yes?" He asked her over his shoulder.
Lyanna nodded, voice barely coming out above a whisper, "Yes." It wasn't that she was stunned speechless, or that she was trying to sneak through the courtyard. Something about this moment felt incredibly personal, too intimate to be spoken aloud.
"Well then, my princess," he led her along behind him into the stables. Robert was supposed to show them to her tomorrow. Somehow, it seemed fitting that whatever Oberyn was planning would rob the Baratheon of the priviledge. They stopped in front of a jet black stallion tied to a post in front of a bale of hay, and Oberyn turned to her with a mischievous smirk, "Let me give you a taste of it."
The young prince let go of Lyanna to untie the reins to his stallion. Quickly climbing up on the horse bareback, he offered Lyanna a hand to help her up. She took it at once, no longer thinking of where any of this was headed. Her curiosity was the only thing making her decisions now.
Oberyn pulled her up onto the horse behind him and led it slowly to the open gates. "Hide your face in my shoulder, Lyanna," he whispered to her as they approached the two guards.
Lyanna complied, putting her face in the crook of his neck. Out of nerves, her arms wrapped tightly around him. It was probably a little too tight to be comfortable, but Oberyn did not complain. If anything he sat up taller on the horse, arching his back with a sense of regal superiority.
"Good evening," Oberyn addressed the guards in the doorway with a nod, heading at a casual pace.
The guards looked at each other, unsure of what to do. "Where would you be going this time of night, prince?" One of them asked. The guard was trying to speak with authority, but there was no weight behind it.
Oberyn could hear the nerves in their voices as much as he could see them in their bodies. They didn't know if they had the right to stop him or not, and they didn't know how he would react to being stopped. Even the Stormlands had heard whispers of 'the Red Viper of Dorne'. "Out for a late night ride," Oberyn reached down and stroked his hand gently over one of Lyanna's as it tightened around him. "You understand, yes?" He said seductively.
Both of the guards immediately caught on to what the Dornishman was implying and stepped out of his way. It wasn't uncommon for important men to look to escape the castle at night, but it was usually Lord Baratheon, not one of his guests. There was never really a reason for a guest to leave the castle. There was no one here for them to hide their indiscretions from and no one here who would bring up such things to unwanted ears. Nevertheless, they let the prince girl pass without much thought, taking little notice of the woman he would be spending his evening with.
"What was that?!" Lyanna whispered to Oberyn as they rode at a slow pace through the gates, making their way down the hill on which Storm's End rested.
Oberyn let out a quiet laugh. "Do you really think they would allow me to go out in the middle of the night with their Lord's betrothed?"
"I'm not his betrothed," Lyanna countered, "not yet anyway."
Oberyn looked back over his shoulder and determined he was far enough away from the castle now. "Hold on." He warned her.
"What?" A second later Lyanna realized what he was doing and gasped, once again clutching to Oberyn's chest.
Oberyn had loosed the reins slightly and snapped them, breaking his horse into an all-out sprint away from Storm's End. Oberyn laughed loudly into the air as Lyanna held onto him, praying she wouldn't fall off due to lack of a saddle. He let the horse run at its own fast pace, only reaching for the reins to guide them.
They rode along the cliffs overlooking the water, and the longer they rode the more Lyanna could relax. She'd never ridden her own horse bareback, and she'd rarely ever ridden at night in the north. She wasn't allowed to do either. It was… liberating, really. The cool night air was whipping her hair around as she watched the small town below Storm's End pass by in a darkened blur. The sights and sounds were so different at night, so new and intriguing. Her muscles relaxed, and her arms fell from their clutches around Oberyn as she looked up at the sky.
The stars still looked all the same. They still twinkled brightly alongside the moon. They still hung in the same space in the sky. Everything was the same, but it felt so different. Looking up at them from the open, rather than trapped behind some walls, it was exhilarating. She felt, if only for a brief moment, free. Free of that boring castle, free of her overprotective brothers, free of her impending betrothal, free of everything and everyone.
Oberyn finally slowed his horse at a small grove of trees. They were far enough from Storm's End here that Lyanna could only vaguely make out the shape of her prison on the cliff in the distance. "Tell me, Lyanna," Oberyn said as he pulled the horse to a stop and hopped off, giving Lyanna his hand down. "Do you love Robert Baratheon?" Leading his horse over to a nearby branch, Oberyn tied it up and sat against the tree as she mulled over his words.
Lyanna quickly joined him, sitting down with her back against the tree, facing him while looking at the ground. She wasn't sure if she could trust this man with that particular opinion. It was one thing to resent marriage and an entirely different thing to resent her betrothed. She'd probably already trusted him too much by voicing her thoughts earlier. If he did go to Robert, or worse one of her brothers, any small amount of freedom she currently possessed would likely be gone in a flash.
He listened though. That's why she'd told him all those things. Because, unlike Ned or Benjen or her father, this man had listened. Her father never asked for her opinion. Ned was always disgusted with her when she disagreed with him, and Benjen just didn't care. Compared to her family, Oberyn was a breath of fresh air. He'd asked her for her thoughts and acknowledged what she was saying. No one else ever did that for her. Even Brandon at his best would only listen; no one cared to discuss with her.
"In truth," Lyanna sighed, preparing for whatever reaction may come. She didn't trust Oberyn Martell, but she didn't really care at this point. "No, I cannot think of a man I love less than Robert."
"Why do you hold such distain for the man?" He'd seen her emotions for the man plain as day at the feast, but he wanted to understand them.
"The man has claimed he loved me for more than three years now, yet two months ago, a month before he returned to his place at Storm's End, he fathered a bastard daughter back in the Vale." Lyanna chewed on her bottom lip nervously. "How can he claim to love me when he'll dive between the legs of any woman who will have him?"
"In Dorne we are not quite so picky about our lovers," Oberyn murmured. "And we do not judge bastards for their birth… So I cannot say I understand your feelings." At least he was being honest with her.
"I don't judge his daughter." Lyanna defended quickly. "I would never. She had no choice in being born a bastard, just like I had no choice in being born a noble. I don't even care that Robert has a bastard. If he had a bastard from before he knew me I would not mind her in the slightest. My problem lies in the fact that while he was already claiming he loved me he was taking another in his bed. How many women have been there before and since he put a baby in that poor girl's belly? I don't know, and that's what terrifies me. His love wasn't enough for him to remain loyal to me; why would marriage be any different?"
"I see your point." Oberyn conceded, "Love is a far more sacred thing than any ceremony. I've never placed much value on the idea of marriage."
Silence fell over them after that, both simply relaxing and enjoying the breeze that was washing in from the distant cliffs. It was peaceful up here, peaceful and quiet. Lyanna could not thank Oberyn enough for getting her out of that castle, even if it was only for a short while. She was worried she would go insane behind those four walls.
Who knows how much time passed. The silence was comfortable and comforting. Neither of them wanted to break the aura that had fallen over the seen, yet Oberyn knew he must. He had one more question.
"Lyanna," he drew her attention from where she had again been staring at the stars, "do you want to marry Robert Baratheon?"
Lyanna let out a rather nervous laugh. "I suppose that is a different question than loving him, but no, I don't wish to marry him. Ned has been a good friend of Robert's since a very young age. He wants his friend to be his brother, and Robert is more than happy to oblige." She gave a moment's pause to think of her situation. "My father may be kind enough to take my feelings into consideration but only to a point. Standing and wealth are both far more important than anything I have to say, and Robert is higher in both of those things than any other suitor I could hope for. House Baratheon is the only Great House to approach him for my hand, and as long as that holds I will have no choice in who I marry."
A quiet fell over the pair again as her words sunk in. Oberyn had assumed, rightfully so after overhearing bits of her conversation with her brothers earlier, that she was not happy with her impending betrothal. A beautiful, intelligent woman like her surely would have noblemen lining up at her father's door. It sounded as though Robert had scared them all away. "Would you take an alternative if you had it? Or are you complying in your brother's wishes?" Oberyn asked to establish some certainty.
Lyanna's eyes moved away from the Dornishman and stared off into the dark, dense forest that expanded out behind them. "Anything, anyone is better than that man."