Brandon regarded her sudden meekness with a healthy dose of suspicion. Lyanna expected her prospective husband would have fallen much easier for the lack of antagonism. Alas, her brother knew her too well to be taken in by a bowed head. "And you have no notion of why he has a sudden interest in walking with you?"

"I cannot read the man's thoughts." Her mutinous answer earned her a glower. Not that she was particularly concerned on that account. He would not give her that much trouble provided she at least attempted a feasible explanation. "I thought you would be glad that I managed the feat."

She looked up in time to see the young man grit his teeth in earnest frustration. "Do not be obstinate. Have you or have you not?" He was particularly testy. Lyanna wondered whether that had to do with his own conscience or with the knowledge that, for once, he did not have to convince her and thus found the position uncomfortable in the extreme.

Had she exerted herself enough to make it clear she was, despite any earlier indications to the contrary, not at all opposed to settling into her role of mistress of a keep, he would not have been half as concerned. As matters stood, she understood at long last why it was that her contrary behaviour might have benefited from taking a secondary place. "I believe he found something to his liking and wishes further acquaintance. Is that so difficult for you to believe; that a man might find me appealing?" It stung. But then he was her brother and might not be persuaded to see any attractive qualities in a sister, of all people. As it should be. Nevertheless, rationalisation failed to soothe the pain. She drew in a sharp breath and looked into the man's eyes.

"He as good as said he was not interested in wedding. Anyone." With such an emphasis upon the last word, she had to wonder whether that was an apology. "If at all possible, I would rather you not squander your chance. I've no doubt he is a charming man–"

"I am not your Barbrey." That shut him up. For the moment. Lyanna's eyes narrowed into slits. "Even if the man had not been the soul of propriety, I promise you, my lord, my skirts would not have lifted as much as an inch above the ground."

"Lyanna!" Crass or otherwise the reminder had the desired effect. "I am a man. I know how men think. You will not encourage him on this walk. Have I made myself clear?" She shrugged. "If I have to set one of my men after you, be certain I shall."

"What a clod you are. I as good as promised I shouldn't do a thing to dent my prospects." His expression battled between thoughtful and hopeful. "It is but a walk. In a garden where there will be people aplenty. If His Grace means to carry out some nefarious plan of seduction in sight of all and sundry, I daresay he is daft, twice as much as any Targaryen that ever lived. As for myself, I've perfectly good legs."

Teasingly, she kicked up the heavy hems of the skirts. Brandon tsked but did not follow that with anything other than a warning glance. Lyanna stood. "Keep to a busy path. Regardless of His Grace's desires, you are to set the terms in this and if he insists on anything else, simply turn back and leave."

"Indeed, as good a plan as any, brother." Ned, who had been sitting upon a stool closer to the small writing table, sighed, releasing upon the lacquered surface a small note. "What is it?" she felt compelled to ask. "Has Lady Ashara anything to do with this?"

His morose expression persisted even as he denied the possibility. Having already climbed to her feet, Lyanna merely indicated that he ought to serve in his capacity as a brother and see her without. "I find the prospect of walking by myself quite daunting. Join me." No one dared point out she could have taken Marsia along. Or grandmother. Good that they did not; she would not have shied away from dragging Ned around.

They emerged together into the sun. She tipped her head backwards, allowing the rays to glide against her skin. Ned gently urged her along. She came without much complaint, tightening her hold on the arm he proffered. "I would not mind if you did develop a healthy dose of affection for Lady Ashara, if only she showed the same regard for you."

He strained beneath her touch. "I have no wish to discuss my relationship with Lady Ashara, sister, with you, or with any others. It would be good of you to remember that in the future."

Lyanna came to an intrepid halt, forcing him to adapt as she had adapted to him. "I do not appreciate that tone of voice." The words were spoken deliberately slow. "Mark my words, to me you are the most wonderful of men, you and Brandon and Benjen. Though tell them none of this. I cannot abide their superiority when they know themselves admired. But it remains that if you have seen fit to give some woman your heart, I want to know that. And she had better have the good sense to return your affection." Such was the flint she rained upon him even as her fingers tirelessly brushed at invisible creases upon his garment's arm. "And you, in turn, might have the good sense to discuss matters of the heart with me."

Her stunned brother kept himself scrupulously still as she set about mending all the plucking she had done. But he was not silent. "Deeper than any lake I've ever known," he muttered. "You have been spending time with grandmother." The accusation was not groundless. Lyanna stared into his eyes, daring him to add to that complaint. "But if I am to do as I am told, you must discuss your affairs with me in return. Only fair."

She held one hand up in silent surrender. Her compliance would have to be earned. "Is it about Lady Ashara, then? Truly?"

"I find her most confusing." He pouted. On Brandon it might have looked attractive. On him it still held an air of childish rebellion. He was not yet so long in the tooth he might be forgiven such displays. "I fear I am pinning my hopes where there are none." She feared the same. Lyanna voiced none of that; electing to squeeze his arm encouragingly. "That is the extent to which I am willing to speak upon the matter." No pressure came from her when it became apparent she would not gain more.

"Is it very difficult, having to approach someone?" Rhaegar had looked quite dashing going about engaging her attention. It was most curious. Not for a single moment had she considered what it must have cost him to come to her, for in truth, no matter her subsequent boldness, it had been he who approached, marking his interest rather clearly.

Had it been she to do so, what would that have felt like? Her skin prickled uncomfortably with the thought. She envisioned herself taking the first step and faltering. Not for a lack of courage. If she had enough gumption to grab a man's face between her hands and kiss him, she could surely form a few measly words. But there was a fear within her, a fear that she would fall short of whatever mark that had been arbitrarily set beforehand. And her insides went cold with dread at the thought of goinf against some untouchable paragon. Lyanna was not foolish enough to think that any woman might do. After all, His Grace was her elder by some years, allowed his pick of women no doubt and yet he had not settled upon anyone.

The pressure built in the pit of her stomach until she found herself quite in knots. And she was merely considering the prospect of courting someone. Good gods, how did men do it? How did her brother do it? The urge to ask was violently pushed back. Something told her he would not appreciate such questions.

Ned answered. "You might as well ask if the waves find it difficult to crash upon the shore." She started at the frankness, to think of her stalwart brother as something as ephemeral as a wave rankled. "Yet one shall never get by on pity. Weakness is an ever cruel mistress."

Her thoughts strayed to her brother's friends. Was that not why she despised them, after all? Seeing the simple wisdom in her brother's words she did her best to move around it. "Then you must be strong. There is nothing for it."

They had meantime resumed their languid pace. "Tell me truly, what did you do to engage the Prince?"

"It is rather what he did himself," she answered without much thought. "Doubtlessly, you will wish to warn me, as Brandon has, that men and their intentions must be held under harsh scrutiny."

"Not I. I fear that as the staid brother the best I can do is encourage discrimination on your part. If you have seen evidence that serious intentions exist, then I remain open." He paused and she, instinctively, held her breath. "But I do wish you would not allow yourself to be taken in. His Grace is without doubt capable of stirring all manners of emotion, yet if you would only look about you. There are better options. Safer."

"More easily charmed?" Her question was met with a blank stare. "I suppose I must endure it. Very well, tell me of these safer options." The truth of it was there were no safer options for what she had in mind. Lyanna had sworn to herself that the man of highest rank would be the target of her matrimonial intentions. And so he would. So he was.

"Robert for one." Her expression must have made the content of her thoughts clear. Need became defensive. "That sorry business about his daughter, you need not mind it. And she did not become all that worse for it. All in all he is not that much different from other men."

For a brief moment she considered burying in her heart all that she wished to say on the matter of his friend. "Robert is ever charming. And gay. And in love with life. He would doubtlessly carry on as he's always done and truthfully I could not fault him for it as he has made not one move to disguise his character."

"He is a good man. A man I trust." And that she understood. Robert was Ned's closest friend, supplanting, she thought, even their eldest brother in importance. "A man I would trust with your happiness."

"Then you are a fool." Though the words were harsh she took care to modulate her voice so that the blow softened before it landed. "I would not trust any woman with your happiness. Not as far as I could throw her, certainly. I trust you, though, to find that one woman with whom even the bleakest of moments will be tolerable." She wondered whether her distrust was merited. Better safe than sorry.

"You could not tolerate any bleak moments with Robert?" Her heart warmed ever so slowly. He was trying.

"His natural born children bother me little enough. I will not say they do not bother me at all; what wife would wish such evidence paraded before her. But had he the strength to gather these children to him, and care for them as a father should, at the very least I could have respected that." Life could at times throw unexpected difficulties one's way. She understood. "I do not want a man I have to change at any rate. If he wishes to change than that is on him. I want someone I am in no immediate hurry to change."

"What a paragon you are." She detected admiration mixed with worry. Unsure whether he believed the words or not, but equally unconcerned as it was a truth to her which was all that really mattered at the moment, she simply murmured assent. "I will take you no further than the main road. His Grace may easily find you there."

She looked down upon the front of her gown contemplatively. "You are not upset, I hope." Having not looked up to conform as much, she had a deep suspicion that he was shaking his head. In truth, had the Prince not been available, she might well have turned her attention to Robert Baratheon. He was easily the easiest target. It would not take all that much to sway him, if she set her mind to it, for Robert seemed ever in such disposition as to be swayed by women. And he would have wedded her too. If only because Ned was his constant companion and she was the little sister.

"Why would I be?" His voice was soft, not rising above a whisper. "I am going for a ride. When I return, I expect you too shall have done so as well." She nodded. "There it is."

The walk was a short one, lengthy enough for a brief discussion but not for more. And true enough, the main path opened up before them in a burst of life and colour. Lyanna plastered a gentle smile upon her lips. Half of it at the very least was genuine. She enjoyed being outdoors, although the multitude of people left her somewhat adrift.

The Prince was there as well, caught in conversation with a young man who was a stranger to her. But he took notice of her and bowed out almost as soon. A blush coloured her rosy. Eager, was he? If a pair too many of eyes followed him, Lyanna did not catch that. She allowed her brother and His Grace to exchange a few pleasantries, waiting patiently for Ned to notice some acquaintance that he might leave her. Her brother did just that with only a hint of awkwardness. Someday, she told herself, he would grow into the role. Nevertheless, her fingers squeezed his arm before she let go. His grateful smile told that she had done well, by him at least.

"You must be very close to your brothers," the Prince spoke. There was a small curve to his lips. Almost as though he thought to smile but the effort was too great. Still, it did not look a struggle in the least.

"I never supposed we were any closer than other siblings." The shrug which followed was met with a very nearly blank stare. She did hate that she could not read him. But then she'd been the one who did not want some child clinging to her skirts. "Why that impression, Your Grace?"

"Mayhap 'tis but the way your lord speaks of you." Confusion swamped her for a brief moment, no more than a heartbeat truly. Lyanna cocked her head to the side. "It was clear, to me, that you are held in high esteem."

"That is not always the case, I take it." His parents were brother and sister. Lyanna considered that as she set her hand upon his arm, just in the crook.

"No." They skirted along the edges, aware their progress was being watched. Not overly worried that their words might be overheard, she adjusted her grip. "And you, I trust, hold your siblings in equal admiration."

How would he know? She could nod her head and lie and he would not know the difference. Her smile widened. "I have rarely had cause for quarrel with them." There had been father's death. Her smile almost faltered. She would not speak of father. "That could mean one of two things; I am either the most compliant of sister, or they are much too lenient."

He chuckled. "It would not surprise me if it were so." She got the distinct feeling he was considering the last option. "Will I see you later, in the stands?" The King and his family sat separately. Lyanna gave him a wide-eyed stare. "I am hoping, you see, that you are anticipating what is to come on the morrow."

"No. I do not see. What is to come on the morrow?" Her heart did that silly thing where it felt as though it were aflutter. She very nearly raised one hand to the wayward organ, as if to catch it mid-flight.

"I suppose I deserve that." She neither agreed, nor disagreed. "The last I had you for an audience, I forfeited victory. I do not mean to do the same." She thought of the strand of hair he'd taken from her.

"It could be that Your Grace lost either way," she murmured. It was at that point that she noticed they had moved to a more secluded spot. Her hand fell away from his arm. Lyanna waited with baited breath for his answer.

"It might help if I have some incentive." It was his hand that found hers, the strength of his fingers translating into a firm, kind grip. Not that he had any need to attempt capture; she would not try to evade, except might be if he demanded too much of her. Her eyes fell to their entwined hands. He raised them to chest-level, then slowly the back of her hand met his lips. A brush, no more, all within the bounds of propriety. Why, then, did her heart skip a beat?

Instinctively she swayed towards him. "You are rather certain of your victory. Might be you would do well enough without any incentives." Even in their secluded spot, there were still eyes enough to see. She could not give the sort of incentive she wished to. Lyanna drew back. "In any case, I shall wait patiently for the outcome before giving anything."

They continued their walk, speaking of inconsequential things. Lyanna enjoyed it, more his nearness than any small talk. She found such subjects tiresome, but the feel of his arm beneath her fingertips was as much a grounding element as she could ever wish for. So she held on and hope that his decision was cemented, for she dared not ask, fearing to appear too keen. In due time. All in good time. They ended their interview upon a high note with Lyanna being returned to her brother's encampment.

Her grandmother had been waiting.

"Well, girl, you have done admirably well." Her teeth gritted at the compliment which she felt held just a hint of malice. She would not have her day ruined. Lyanna excused herself. "Indeed. It is not quite the thing to celebrate a success before certainty is here."

"Apologies, my lady. I fear I may have turned my leg just a tad." If the woman was convinced or simply let her off for her own purposes, she did not much care. What mattered was that she could make her way to her tent. Until she recalled that she had not seen Ned about. Was his return delayed?

Calling one of Brandon's men over, she asked about Ned. He had not returned. Biting into her lower lip she eyed his tent. Might be there was something in there. Her breath hitched ever so slightly. Tremulous hands gripped at the heavy folds of her skirts and she started towards it. Then stopped. And the again she took a decisive step until she was not walking but doing a strange cross between it and running. Her feet carried her to the entrance and without warning she stepped within, expecting she did not know what.

Contrary to her suspicions, Ned's tent held little of outward interest. There was also no sight of their guest to be beheld. Had he gone riding as well? Lyanna entered deeper within her brother's lair and nearly stumbled over a stray gauntlet. Her eyes fell to the object. She bent to pick it up.

It was part of her Ned's armour set. She traced the filigree decorating the cuff. The leaves were not bothered by her nail scraping at them. "He should take better care of you." Only for a brief moment did it feel strange to speak to it as though it were alive. She moved towards the chest and knelt to better work upon the latch. It took no more than a couple of tries to unlatch it and open the coffer.

"What?" It was not quite the thing to speak to herself, of course, but she could not help the exclamation. What in gods' good grace had he done with the armour? He truly ought to have more care. It could not be good and it had been a gift for his nameday. Brandon would not be at all pleased if he were to come upon the sight. She set about straightening the bits and pieces she found. But before long it occurred to her that the set was incomplete.

Thinking she had somehow pushed the rest of it to the bottom, Lyanna picked every single piece out, strewing them about herself. But no, it truly was as it had seemed to her. Ned'ssuit of armour was incomplete. Consternation held her in its careful grip as she replaced her findings and shut the lid over them before climbing to her feet and staring at the trunk. Ought she go to Brandon with this There was a thief about. Ought she go to Ned?

What if her own coffers had been raided?

She hurried back across the length between her brother's tent and her own, skirts thrown in a flurry of inelegant fluttering. She did not care overmuch about that though as she pushed the tent flap out of the way and stumbled within, her feet taking her straight to the line of chests. She opened them one by one, rifling through their contents.

Had aught been missing she would have known, Lyanna told herself even as she struggled to recall what it was that she had taken along. To no avail, the dresses were all within and not a single bit of gold was missing. As for her mother's embroidery, it rested at the bottom of the largest chest, along with the hoops and needles. Just as well. Relief flooded her.

Lyanna stood to her feet, bringing one hand to wipe at the beads of sweat forming upon her forehead. The Myrish lace sewn upon her cuff dampened slightly. It made no matter, no one would see the inside of her wrists. Her eyes alit upon the dark spot. Ned would have to be told. Might be Brandon as well. Much as she would like to pretend a lack of knowledge, it could not be. That suit of armour was still a gift even if Ned refused to put it on. Just because he would have no cause to unpack the thing and strut about in it did not mean he deserved to be robbed.

Her mind worked upon the notion awhile longer even as she sat down upon the mattress, bringing her hands together upon her lap. First, she would calm herself. Appearing before anyone in such a state would only set her like to that of a madwoman. Her breathing slowed, heartrate returning to normal after brief resistance.

Once she found her feet, in spite of the worry clawing at her insides, she strode to the tent's entrance. Without the sun still shone, bathing the world in its warm glow. She took a couple of steps before she could properly enjoy the feeling. And not a moment sooner did she see her brother that her limbs hastened to close the gap between them, his name upon her lips a chant.

Surprise registered upon his face as she crashed into him before he could stop her. Howland Reed came after him, carrying a bundle. Lyanna paid that one no mind, she drew her brother aside and whispered in his ear, "This is horrible, Ned. I think we've a thief among us."

White-faced, he stared down into her eyes. "A thief?"

"Yes. I was just–" She stopped short. "I wanted to ask you something so I entered your tent and found upon the ground your gauntlet. Someone had stolen pieces of the armour in your chest."

If possible, his face became even paler. "I will take care of that." But to her ears the voice was faint. She had expected anger, not this. Grabbing onto his arm, she was about to ask after his reaction, but Ned simply shook her off. "No. Do not worry. I said I would take care of it and I will. And you, has anything been taken from you?"

"Not that I can tell. But Ned, I do have something in mind." He paused, staring expectantly at her. "I will stay behind, to see if the thief returns. You may go search for your armour."

"You won't–"

"Of course I shan't approach him, in fact, I shall pretend sleep." Understanding flittered across his face and he started shaking his head. "Come now, we are brother and sister. I will simply say I turned my ankle and in our haste you carried me to your tent. No one will be the wiser."

She saw the conflict in his face and waited for its resolution. It did not fail to come. "No. I cannot." Lyanna insisted, but he simply took her by the arm and led her to her own tent. "You will see whether someone approached if you leave the flap pinned. And you may tell Brandon whatever you wish, I will agree with you."

It had been worth trying, she told herself as Ned left for his own tent. She would excuse herself from attending the joust. After her brothers had left, she would simply move into Ned's tent and await the arrival of the thief if he dared to return.

So when Brandon came for her at long last, Lyanna knew to sit under her covers, her grandmother knew not to betray her and Brandon, in a charitable mood, said he would leave her to her rest but expected that she would attend on the morrow, which she agreed to without complaint. Pleased that she would be out of harm's way and busy sleeping, he asked, as an afterthought, whether she wished Marsia to stay with her.

"Do not be absurd," Lyanna waved her hand dismissively. "Marsia should see the joust. On the morrow I shall undoubtedly feel better." Marsia tried to question her with a glance but she pretended ignorance and feigned exhaustion, sliding deeper beneath the covers. They left her to her rest after, with a promise to make her excuses. Satisfied that the ruse worked, she thought no more upon the matter and waited the passing of a little while before she made her way back to Ned's tent.

Her brother's mattress had been neatly moved to the side to make room for the second one. She had not considered the two would ready themselves for the return with such haste. But then the more she sat in the tent the wearier she grew and for the life of her she could not explain it. Lyanna bit back a sigh. The hours were crawling by and the thief was unlikely to return. She would do better to stretch her legs for a little while.

Before she could act upon such a desire, the tent flap was pushed aside and a dark head poked its way within. So startled was she by the intrusion and the fact she'd heard naught to give the man away that she only half-managed to smother her yelp. It was much too late though. Howland Reed's wide eyes rested upon her huddled form. He slid in.

"It was you?" Lyanna darted towards him, tugging at the bundle. Sure enough, one of her brother's gauntlets slid right out. Speechless, she stared. And then understanding ever so slowly dawned upon her. Ned's fear, the refusal to allow her into his tent, his apparent lack of concern about the armour.

"The King is angered at the daring of a knight carrying the shield of the laughing tree. He thinks someone plots against him."

Lyanna picked up the gauntlet as he spoke and returned everything to the chest she unlatched with unmistakably frim motions. "We should burn the shield. Do you know where it is?"

She turned in time to see his nod. "Later, after nightfall, I can lead the way."

Ned stumbled in. His eyes darted between the two of them and chagrin flooded his face. "Feeling better, sister?"

"Much better," she snapped, slamming the lid of the chest shut. "I hear the joust brought some surprises."

"Not more so than one expects." She nodded. There would be time enough to scold him after. "But you mustn't be up and about even if you are feeling better. Allow me to take you back to your tent."

Without a member of the Kingsguard made his way towards them, following close on the heels of their brother. Brandon gave them both a sharp look. She was treated to a brief explanation of the surprise which she had missed. Lyanna answered honestly to all the questions put to her, except for one. She did not tell the man what she suspected. Fortunately, even a Kingsguard had no business pestering a lady. The man bowed and made his way around the encampment.

Left with her brothers, she had the distinct feeling that her silence contributed to the unease growing between them.

"On the morrow," Brandon said finally, "I want all of you sitting next to me. No exceptions."

She would solve the matter of the shield tonight. Lyanna nodded her head. "Yes, my lord."

The Lord of Winterfell scrutinised his siblings. Lyanna could tell he was not pleased but dared not ask after his ills.


She had endured as much as humanly possible. Compared to the first day of feasting, this second evening proved much poorer in engaging her. Lyanna twisted a handkerchief between her fingers, trying to maintain an outward disguise of poise and calm, none of which were particularly easy to do when more than just one pair of eyes stared around with lingering suspicion.

Robert seated himself at her side, a cup of ale in each hand. He pushed one towards her and downed his in one long gulp. "Everyone whispers about the mystery knight." He's won the melee, to the surprise of no one. "I swear, whoever the man is, he knows how to steal one's thunder."

"And with so very little he has managed to steal the wind from your sails? I would not have expected it of you." Pretending an interest in her drink, she swirled the cup round and round. "Doubtlessly, it was ill-advised of me to have missed this grand display."

"I say, where were you, Lyanna? Your brother mentioned you were not feeling well. And your aunt said something about a turned ankle." He glanced down at her feet pointedly. They were crossed at the ankles. Lyanna licked her lower lip out of habit and assumed a more decent position. "It does not look swollen; neither of your ankles does."

"I merely though I turned it. I was wrong." So much for maintaining a calm façade. She took a sip of the ale. It was sweeter than she had expected. Had someone poured honey in it? No matter, she liked the taste well enough.

"That is good then." A flicker of relief sparked to life. He had not meant what she thought he had. "It means you will doubtlessly be in fine form and catch the mystery knight yourself."

"Only if he appeared before me with a crown in hand." While her voice had been small and rather deadpan, Robert made her out perfectly. And he laughed that boisterous laugh of his, fit to make the earth rumble. "I say this is all nonsense. The poor man, whoever he is, did no more than other men have done before him."

"Sure enough," Robert agreed, holding his cup out as wine was poured into it by a passing servant. "But he might have known we would make sport of finding out his identity. Only a fool appears thus before a crowd and expects none to take notice of him."

Bristling at the insult, Lyanna threw him a hard stare. Robert did not notice and the foolishness of her actions caught up to her before she could alert him. Contrite, she returned to her drink and would have attempted civil conversation before her table was besieged by yet another man bent on finding the identity of the mystery knight. The gods conspired to have her break down, she trusted.

Richard Lonmouth was not unknown to her. She greeted him with proper decorum and maintained her cool demeanour until he opened his mouth to speak to Robert. Heat gathered uncomfortably beneath her breast and she sat up, with a murmur. The men were caught up in their conversation that her slipping away was accepted with a disinterested nod and she was more than grateful to see Brandon dancing with Lady Ashara just as Ned conversed with one of Lord Whent's sons. Grandmother had retreated, with Marsia in tow. No one would mind if she were to take a short walk without, provided that she was not gone long.

Scarcely had she stepped without though that her vision was filled with the one man she did not want to see at the moment, the same man she longed to see, on the other hand. He must have wondered without and was just returning. Lyanna thought to make her curtsies and hurry off, for he did not look in a mood to talk.

"I see your ankle has recovered." A furious blush stole over her cheeks. How many people had that lie been repeated to? The coolness of his tone belied the apparent concern.

"It was not as bad as I thought it was." He was the King's son. He could help her. "Your Grace must have felt the need for some fresh air as well." What an inane thing to say. Lyanna forced a smile upon her lips and made to move past. His eyes flashed and for just a moment her skin crawled. But whatever she had seen in there, it was gone and he lifted his arm for her to take.

"I know I promised we would not hold any assignations, but surely it cannot be seen as such when we have quite accidentally stumbled one upon the other." He led her to the dimly lit path. Lyanna offered no protest. "Was it truly the heat that brought you out just now, my lady?" he asked softly, the voice slicing her with its thin edge. "Or might be it was guilt."

She shuddered. "What a thought Your Grace. Though I was very sorry to have missed the joust this day, I will not make the same mistake twice." They stood beneath the shade of a great old tree. The flimsy light from around was scant protection and he had walked straight into whatever trap had been set. Striving to keep appearances, she made a show of looking about her. "One can hardly believe there are so very many people gathered here when such silence reigns."

He stared intently back at her, not saying one word in reply. She cleared her throat and turned her attention to the gardens yet again. Did he have to be so confusing? Something brushed against the nape of her neck. Her spine straightened instinctively but before long she leaned into his touch, the insistence scalding and heartening at the same time. And it was just a simple touch. Heat welled up within her again. It would be rather unacceptable to start fanning herself, she suspected; before she could make up her mind though, she was released.

"I will speak to your brother again, after the tourney is at an end. I wanted you to know." It sounded like a warning. Lyanna whirled to face him. He looked out into the creeping darkness. "On the morrow you will be seated at your brothers' side." And that had been an order if she was not mistaken. Her lips flattened in a straight line. "Keep in mind, my lady, that a jest is good and well just as long as 'tis not pushed to the extremes."

Did he think she had deliberately set out to trick him? Her hands settled upon his wrist as his eyes settled upon her. He held her stare as she raised the beringed hand to her lips. She chose the signet ring he wore to bestow a kiss upon. It was the sort of kiss, the more intimate sort, she could get away with. She then brushed her cheek against the backs of his fingers. "As Your Grace wishes." She hoped that might be enough to soothe whatever pride she gad bruised. Lyanna still kept his wrist between her hands when his free hand came to the curtain of her hair-fall. He held a portion of it between thumb and forefinger.

Hope rose to before unreached heights. Lyanna kept her expectations tightly locked behind her softly smiling visage. Would he lean in? Would she rise on her tiptoes?

The Prince let go. She fell back from him, the string of disappointment punishment enough. "What I wish and what is allowed are much too further apart." And just like that he had her in the palm of his hand again. Yet she was not willing to give in so easily. He enjoyed playing the game with her. She did not, however, enjoy the teasing.

"I must away, Your Grace. My brothers are sure to be looking for me." He did not stop her. Neither did he follow. It would, might be, not have been quite so scandalous to enter together. But she was grateful he did not push the bounds of propriety. The gods only knew how Brandon would react. It was not as though she had not seen him drinking that eve.

Her absence, it turned out, had not been marked enough to prompt action on anyone's part. Robert and Richard had departed and were trying to outdrink a few other men. Ned, on the other hand, sat where Robert had and at his side laughed Lady Ashara, her eyes shining with mirth. Ned was smiling back at her. Hand fluttering to her chest, Lyanna veered towards an empty spot near a lancet. From there she could watch the scene unfold before her.

Howland joined her, offering a cup. She took it. Sweet wine spilled upon her tongue. "I shall come after your brother falls asleep." She nodded her assent.

"I will wait then." They sat together side by side, content to watch the world spin madly on about them.


Clad in breeches and a dark woollen cloak, Lyanna peered into the gaping darkness beyond the flap. It might have been a tad better to have light with her, but even a candlestick could alert the whole camp. She rubbed her hands together, hoping to counter the ice growing beneath her skin. Clammy fingers twined together.

Whooshing sounds came from without. The tent flap was pushed back. She did not jump. After all, the Crannogman had told her he would come. "Howland?"

"Yes." She felt his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "It's a good cloak. I almost missed you." Nodding dumbly, she followed along as the man pulled her into the moonlight. Though only a thin crescent dominated the night sky, there was still enough silvery light for her to make out her companion's general features.

"The shield." Howland shook his head and pushed a finger to her lips, silencing all but her breathing.

"Apologies, my lady. 'Twould be better to not speak." She could not argue with that. "Follow close behind," he whispered. Not that she had planned to do otherwise.

Trailing him in the manner a shadow would, she could barely hold back from reaching out. It had to be the darkness and the lack of sound. True, crickets sang in the backdrop, reminding her that she was walking out of the safety of her brother's camp to go trampling in the woods, as it were, with a virtual stranger.

Howland Reed was hardly the fiercest of men and seeing him lying helplessly on the ground had diminished some of her apprehension, but now that it was just him and her, the sickening feeling returned. She knew nothing about him, nothing to encourage such mindless trust beside the fact that he was Brandon's bannerman. That was just borrowing trouble on her part, she told herself a few moments later as they reached the treeline. Her mind was playing tricks on her, trying to convince her danger lurked where there was none. Her musings, benign or otherwise, were cut short as they entered the narrower paths which snaked through the trees, covered by roots and tall grass and mystery.

If ever there was a perfect opportunity for mischief, such a night would be it. The place Reed led her to was some manner of grove, a dip in the soil as though something very heavy had settled upon it and pressed it inwards, towards the centre. Almost like a giant's toe.

He knelt by one of the tall trees and his hand slid beneath the roots. She watched as he pulled out the oddly painted shield. Even in the dim light the grinning face of the weirwood chilled her to the very core. Nevertheless, her feet remained rooted. The shield was pressed into her arms before long. "I will gather some twigs. Keep to the shadows until my return."

"Hurry." Something told her the relative peace would be disturbed if they lingered too long. Misfortune had a way of finding those who least wished its presence.

Lyanna hugged the shield to her chest and sat I the tall grass. There was little use in hiding behind trees. Even with her deficient height, she would still find it difficult to go by unnoticed. At least among the grass blades she could crawl to safety and if she was quiet enough no one would be the wiser.

A shiver shook her.

The grass swished.

She clutched the shield tighter to her chest, nails scarping against the paint. She wondered if it would come off from the abuse.

It sounded almost like the pounding of hooves.


A/N A tad shorter than the previous one. Sorry guys, it is my b-day and I have to take care of guests and such. Please enjoy the chapter and, if you feel like it, drop me a line. Hopefully you enjoyed this.

All the best!