Another chapter for you. I'm a bit overwhelmed at the response from you all. I'm so happy that you like it and you think my Lyanna is believable. I didn't want to make her into some childlike idiot or into some overly masculine character. I just wanted her to believe in her right to freedom and a choice. She doesn't dislike Robert, but she certainly doesn't love him or want to marry him. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. xx


"I can't believe you would do this!" Ned said, pacing before her. He looked more distressed than angry.

She sat on her bed hopelessly. On her arrival back in Harrenhal that evening with some assistance from the prince, Ned had caught her sneaking back to her chambers. He had dismissed the Septa and sat her down solemnly.

"Benjen is half in shock and half in awe of you and is under strict instructions to keep this to himself," Ned told her. "The King and Robert would have had you unmasked if they could. What do you think Robert would have thought?"

"I don't care what Robert thinks," she said petulantly. "I don't care. Perhaps he would have called an end to the engagement and left me in peace."

"Robert loves you!" Ned cried. "Your betrothal has been blessed by the High Septon in the capital."

"I don't believe in the Seven, and neither do you, so what does it matter what the High Septon has or hasn't blessed?" she insisted. "They're his silly gods, not mine."

"You are a Lady, more than that, you are a daughter of House Stark," he told her firmly. "You will do this. I will see it done. Father would have it done, and so it will be."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Feel something Ned!" she screamed at him. "All these proprieties and promises! All of your precious honour, and what is it good for? You would send your sister to an unhappy marriage and do the same yourself! Why shouldn't ladies love? Lords may father as many bastards as they please while subservient wives do as they're told. Do you think Robert would be any different? He would not keep to my bed, nor any one woman's."

"You talk of this as if you have known it," Ned said finally, and in that instant he looked very much older than he was. "Robert will keep you safe, well-fed and give you sons and daughters."

"It sounds as though you love him more than I," she snapped. "He must know it. He must see it in my eyes. No man can be so blind."

"Love blinds men."

"Not that much," said Lyanna quietly. "He must know."

"I will not discuss it, Lyanna," said Ned finally. "I am beginning to think it was a bad decision to allow you to come to Harrenhal. You have done nothing but disobey our father since you arrived."

She threw one of the silk cushions from the bed at him. "Go!"

"Lya—"

"Go!" she screamed this time. "I do not want to see you."

He gazed at her sadly for a moment and then left as per her request. She cursed herself. She felt twice as lonely without him.

Her fury was indescribable. She felt like throttling Ned herself. She took a cut-glass decanter and threw it against the wall with all the strength and rage she could muster, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

Falling to her knees, she gazed at her reflection in every shard.

What is happening to me? Ned is my best friend, my best brother.

As she gazed at the girl – no, woman – in the glass, she cried tears of frustration, not tears of self-pity. There was still hope, there was always hope. Hope that the men around her would come to their senses, and call off the engagement. There was hope that her father would realise she belonged at Winterfell, to marry some Northman that she could love, to hold a sword instead of a needle, to spar with her brothers, not converse with ladies about nothing in particular.

It was a useless hope, but she carried it nonetheless. She loved her father dearly but she needed her mother. He had done his best to raise a daughter, done things that no other father she knew had done – helped her through her first blood, shown her how to dance and taught her the things that her mother had done as Lady of Winterfell, until Lyanna herself could do them in her stead and make him proud.

She steeled herself and got to her feet. I am a Stark, she thought, I do not pity myself. Gods help me.

"Septa Alenei!" she called.


"Lady Lyanna," she was greeted by Robert, his mouth agape.

He took her hand and led her into the Hall. It had been cleared and cleaned and was now decorated as fine as any room of Casterly Rock. Great vases full of exotic flowers adorned every available space, a fine ensemble of musicians – harpists among them, though none so fine as Rhaegar – serenaded them and ladies wore finer dresses than Lyanna had ever seen before. Still Robert had eyes only for her.

She had chosen a gown with a neckline so deep it verged on scandalous. She had worn nothing of its kind before. The torso of the dress was gold plate, almost like armour, with silk skirts as blue as the summer sea. She had asked the Septa to gather her thick, dark hair upon her head and secure it there, in a style that was popular in neither Winterfell nor the capital, but something she imagined a powerful woman in Essos might wear.

The result had been that every eye in the room had found itself on her as she entered. She had paid the usual courtesies and thanked Robert for his compliments as was expected.

"I would claim the first dance from you," Robert told her and she had acquiesced, allowing him to pull her out amongst the couples that danced to the orchestra of strings.

She moved with him. It was easy to smile at his flattery and his tales of the Eyrie. She thought of other things. Her thoughts were far away. She was in Pentos, with its exotic and beautiful women and their pretty gowns, or a Khalasar in the great grass sea, with a beautiful, powerful Khaleesi beside her Khal.

"My Lady?"

Her thoughts interrupted, her eyes met Robert's. "Yes?"

But the song had come to an end and Ned was there to claim her hand.

"I'm sorry, Lyanna," he told her solemnly, and he looked it. "I hate quarreling with you."

She managed a smile at him. "As I do," she said quietly.

"You look especially lovely this evening, sister," he continued. "I—"

"It's fine, Ned," she interrupted him, and they lapsed into silence.

She laid her head on his chest tiredly as they danced. I feel as old as Old Nan, she thought, I am not tired, my bones are.

"Excuse me, my Lord, may I cut in?"

They both looked up to see the prince before them, a smile on his handsome face. Ned couldn't help but return his smile and freely gave her up.

Rhaegar took her. "Hello, knight," he laughed.

She grinned. "That's ser to you," she giggled. "Ser Lyanna Stark, Knight of the Laughing Tree."

He chuckled. "Knighthood suits you," he mocked. "I can see you as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard one day."

She laughed despite herself. "Your Lord Commander?"

He nodded once. "Did you make it back without being discovered?" he asked her. "I spent the afternoon wondering if you were being subjected to your father's fury."

"Ned's," she said quietly. "Ben also knows."

"They should be proud that a lady, a sister of theirs could defeat three knights in a joust," said Rhaegar. "They say Selwyn of Tarth is treating his daughter as his son since he died. Mark my words, she will become a gifted warrior, respected in the Seven Kingdoms."

Lyanna smiled sadly. "No," she said. "She would be ridiculed. Men do not like what they do not understand, and a woman with sword or a lance is one of those."

Rhaegar fell silent as he studied her. His gaze made her feel uncomfortable, especially his deep lilac eyes, but she stared back nonetheless, grey on purple.

As the music drew to an end, Rhaegar leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I should not take more than one song from you, my Lady, or they will begin to talk. Here," he said, as he pushed something into her hand, "hide it and open it only when you are alone."

And with that he was gone, asking Lady Ashara Dayne for her hand in the next dance.

Lyanna glanced down at the folded parchment he had left her with. She tucked it into the golden bust of her gown.

Sadly, she returned to where her father stood with Ned and Robert.

"I'm feeling rather ill," she confessed.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" Robert asked immediately, concerned. He touched her arm gently as if to steady her.

"I should be fine," she said, "as long as I can lie down for a moment."

Her father nodded once, and so she took her leave.

The walk back to her chambers was a long one, through the great caverns and corridors of Harrenhal. Finally she reached it, and flung herself inside, bolting the great door behind her.

She fell back into the bed and drew the parchment from her breast and gazed at it in wonder for a few moments before tearing it open.

Did I know beauty til I looked upon your face

Northern wolf, girl of snow and ice

There is no ice in your heart, only I wish

Wish that one day I might have it

And know its secrets

After reading it through several times, she folded it back up and held it tightly, her breathing shallow and ragged. He's written me a poem, she thought. The silver prince who has eyes only for me… my silver prince.

She grinned stupidly as she lay there with the poem pressed against her heart. Only I wish, wish that one day I might have it, and know its secrets. He wanted her heart just as she wanted his.


Over the next four days of jousting, Lyanna watched Rhaegar unseat every opponent he faced, including Brandon. It was as if the Gods were smiling on his victories as she was. Her heart raced each time he competed, sure that he would be knocked from his black stallion, but he unseated each and every knight before him.

Finally, on the fifth day, he faced Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and Lyanna was sure that he would lose.

She sat with Ned. Her father and Brandon and Benjen were absent that day. Having already been defeated, Brandon had retired to his own chambers. They sat together at the very front, Lyanna beside Lady Ashara herself, who looked nervous as her brother rode out.

Lyanna saw Rhaegar mount and take his lance before taking his place. She imagined his face beneath his helm and prayed for the Gods to allow him one more victory.

And so it was that the knights, the friends, nodded curtly to one another and broke into a fierce gallop. Lyanna couldn't bear to watch, she buried her face in the crook of Ned's arm as they rode.

She heard a great cheer and somebody call victoriously, "Prince Rhaegar!"

Looking up, she found Arthur Dayne sprawled in the dust, his lance a few feet away from him and his white stallion whickering nervously above him. Then she turned her gaze to the prince.

He had tossed his lance away and removed his helm, taking a low bow upon his horse and smiling widely at the crowd.

Ned applauded him, and Lyanna followed suit quickly. Several people stood, great smiles on their faces for the gracious champion.

And then Rhaegar was handed a laurel of what looked like blue winter roses, to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty.

All eyes fell on his wife as he urged the stallion towards her, clutching the crown in his hand. There was a gasp as he urged the horse past Elia and onwards, down the rows of young ladies.

Don't be foolish, she prayed.

But he brought his mount to a halt before her anyway. He grinned up at her and she was aware that Ned was staring incredulously at her on her left and Ashara on her right.

Rhaegar tossed the laurel into her lap nevertheless, with a low bow to her, and with that was gone.

Lyanna stared down at it, and picked it up gently. As she looked up, she noticed that every single smile had died and several men had stood up, outraged. Princess Elia had disappeared, along with her handmaidens. The roses were soft beneath her fingers. There was nothing else to be done, so she lifted the laurel and placed it upon her head decisively.

She caught Robert's eye and he looked ready to tear the roses or Rhaegar apart, she wasn't sure which. She managed an apologetic smile to him.

"I think it best we leave," Ned told her quietly, and he stood, offering his arm to her.

She took it.


There you are, another chapter! Enjoy! And don't forget to review lovely people! x