"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." – Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning (GoT S06E03, "Oathbreaker.")
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." - Mance Rayder (GoT S05E01, "The Wars to Come.")
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"I don't believe in saviors. I believe men of talent have a part to play in the war to come." – Varys the Spider (GoT S05E01, "The Wars to Come.")
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, your grace ..." - Jon Snow (GoT S07E05)
Lyanna rose from the hot spring, naked as her name day. The hot steam whirled around her as she waded through the water. She could feel the mud on her feet, squeezing out between her toes while she reached the shallower part of the hot spring. Gathering her dark brown hair, she began wringing the water out from it.
She watched her own reflection on the water while she hummed to herself, a song she recalled hearing from the new washerwoman who came from Bear Island.
Six maids in a pool
They're of noble blood
One Fool, but great, on the shore
He'd seen that flower full of love
"She'll be in my garden" - he'd sworn
Her name was Jonquil, pure child
Tough father had made a deal:
By ugly, full of money lord
That beauty will have to be killed, oh
Lyanna sang the song, allowing her voice to carry all throughout the Godswood with only the ancient trees as her silent audience.
'Six Maids in the Pool,' the song was called. A song about a hero from the riverlands named Florian, who run away with a lovely maiden named Jonquil. Vaguely, she remembered what the washerwoman had told her more about the song.
"It is the song about Florian and his lovely Jonquil, milady." The washerwoman had explained to her when Lyanna had asked. The woman's name was Maegery. She had black hair and brown eyes and tall for a woman of four and twenty.
"Where did you hear it?" Lyanna had asked out of curiosity.
"From the riverlands," had been the woman's reply. "The riverfolks tell a story of how the song was sung by a wandering bard named Thomas the Rhymer during a wedding feast, though many found it curious as there had been no knights yet when the song was first heard in the Age of Heroes... Knights only appeared when the Andals came to Westeros with their iron swords and their Faith of the Seven. Some say the song, 'Six Maids in the Pool,' was not merely a song at all…but a prophecy."
"A prophecy?" Lyanna hated prophecies. She knew that there was nothing good in easily believing in them. Only mad men believed in such things as prophecies.
Lyanna felt like she should know this first hand.
"Aye, most believe the songs made by Thomas the Rhymer are prophecies."
"Truly? Has the prophecies in the songs come to past then?"
"Mayhap it has, it is uncertain yet…but some say that it had…a thousand times before. Do you want me to tell you the tale behind the song, milady?"
Lyanna had simply nodded her head, more intrigue than anything.
"Once there was a knight," Maegery had started with a smile on her lips, "He was not of noble birth, as the songs would have you believe, but Florian was more than noble…"
"What is he then?" Lyanna had inquired, wondering.
"The others say he is a God in mortal form, from the Faith of the Seven."
"The Warrior?"
"At first, he is."
"At first?"
"Aye, milady. For he is a God with many faces...He is ever-changing."
"A shape-shifter? Or a strong warg?" had been Lyanna's excited question, wanting to know more about this Florian who could possibly do magic.
"Mayhap he is both…a strong warg if he is one, might be the strongest warg that ever live, no one can tell, though the others tell the tale that he was the Warrior, then the Father, then the Smith, and at last… the Stranger. He is all of them…and yet none of them, for he is no one…He is the Silent God. A dreamer...Invisible and immortal. He hides his course in reeds, with lies, mummery, and fools' masks…or so as the tale went…"
"But what of the Maiden, Mother and the Crone? Are they one and the same too?"
Lyanna had glimpsed a mysterious smile forming in Maegery's lips at her question.
"When there is a God. There is also a Goddess... Do you believe in a Triple Goddess, milady?"
"I don't know…" She had replied, remembering something; a memory involving a hairless white cat with mismatched eyes, which had one green eye on the left and one blue eye on the right. The cat was named Hecate and Lyanna recalled listening to a bushy-haired girl explained what breed of cat it was and more of the its name.
"I was told by someone that there is a Goddess named Hecate," had been Lyanna's reply to Maegery. Her forehead had throbbed for some unfathomable reason after trying to recall a particular memory.
"I have not heard that name my lady. But I do know of a Goddess who bore three aspects, and she is from the Faith of the Seven. The Maiden, the Mother and the Crone. Many believe them to be one and the same."
"Was Jonquil a Maiden in mortal form then?"
"Mayhap she was... In the tale, Florian the Fool, in disguise, came upon Jonquil bathing in the pool…She was a lovely maiden, so fair and pure to look upon that Florian fell in love with her at first sight."
"Did Florian saw her bathing in a river?"
The washerwoman had burst out laughing at Lyanna's question, and said to her, "No, she was bathing in the lake. Some say that it was in the Gods Eye across from the Isle of Faces...but mayhap you shall want to hear the song first in its entirety before I tell you the tale…would you like that Lady Lyanna?"
"Of course."
Six maids in a pool
They're of noble blood
One Fool, but great, on the shore
He'd seen that flower full of love
"She'll be in my garden" - he'd sworn
Her name was Jonquil, pure child
Tough father had made a deal:
By ugly, full of money lord
That beauty will have to be killed, oh
.
Oh oh, glorious Florian-
He was the first who had opened her thighs
Oh oh, glorious Florian,
Run from thousands of lies
To the happiest day of their lives
.
He was a knight of famous name,
The owner of Furious sword
But now he's fool with motley shield
Because of cutting word.
Despite of misery and fate,
Pride's what he feels for real
He'll care about vows he gave
With blade of Valiry steel, oh
.
Oh oh, glorious Florian-
He was the first who had opened her thighs
Oh oh, glorious Florian,
Run from thousands of lies
To the happiest day of their lives...
Oh oh, glorious Florian-
.
He was the first who had stolen her bud,
Kissing her petals &
Whispering swears,
Green grass had colored with blood..
.
Oh oh, glorious Florian-
He was the first who had opened her thighs
Oh oh, glorious Florian,
Run from thousands of lies
To the happiest day of their lives...
Lyanna sang, remembering the tale behind the song. In the story Jonquil was betrothed to marry a rich lord, but before Jonquil could marry the man, she was abducted by two knights under the orders of the Crown Prince. Jonquil had to cut her hair short and dyed her hair blonde - the color of honey - and then made it look like she had been killed. In their journey to have Jonquil marry the prince, Florian came upon Jonquil bathing in the lake, who was then half in love with the lovely maiden.
However, Florian's vows compelled him to follow through with the plan that the Prince had set, albeit it didn't stop Jonquil from starting an intense and secret love affair with Florian on their way to Gulltown, where the Prince was said to be waiting.
In the end, however, Jonquil never did marry the Prince. Instead she run away with her knight after they were caught in bed together. But Jonquil found out that Florian had lied to her too. She discovered that her white knight was no ordinary knight at all, but he was something more. Florian was a powerful skinchanger, who had hidden motive to see the rightful heir sit the throne. The one who bore the sword. A sword with a great burden to bear.
At first, Lyanna had thought it was a story about the Blackfyre heir. But Maegery had said that it was not, and hinted that it was a story about the descendant of the Warg King who uses direwolves as his thrall.
"He is not a Blackfyre, milady, for he doesn't belong to the House Targaryen...but his house is as ancient as yours...He descended from the line of the First Men, the last Warg King himself...a rebel by heart...If he had a House sigil, it would be a black direwolf on a white field..."
"Was Florian a stark then?"
"No...Florian is not a Stark...The man uses too many names and a thousand disguises to be called anyone. Florian is simply no one..."
As the story went, many thought Jonquil and Florian were dead, but in truth, they were very much alive. The two had joined a mummer's troupe and had continue living a simple life in Dorne, or traveling in the free cities disguise as a merchant and a courtesan, sometimes a fisherman and his daughter, or a maester and a septa, whatever fits the occasion. They hid behind masks as they waited for their children to grow more in to the position of power each day. Until the right time when the two lovers will reveal themselves to the world and end the lies.
Lyanna found the story fascinating and the song passing queer. However, other than the song 'Six Maids in a Pool', Maegery had also taught Lyanna other songs such as, 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair', 'The Dornishman's Wife', 'Two Hearts That Beat as One', 'The Winter Maid', 'Alyssane', 'My Lovely Jenny', 'Autumn of My Day', and so many others.
Lyanna had wrote the songs down on pieces of parchment so that she could memorize them and sing the songs by heart as Maegery had advised her to do.
"Remember milady. Some of these songs are thought to be prophecies. You mustn't take them lightly, for it might become of use to you in the future," had been the washerwoman's parting words to her.
Soon after, when Lyanna had went to the well where she usually saw the woman take bucket loads of water, Maegery was nowhere to be seen.
Old Nan had told her that Maegery had left for the Riverlands and left a cryptic message for Lyanna to figure out.
"Look to the stars as most Maesters would want to do, Lady Lyanna...for its only through the stars, you will find the answers to your riddle."
The wind blew against Lyanna's flushed face while the blood-red leaves of the weirdwood tree rustled above her. The sound was almost like a whisper when she gave her hair a last squeeze, watching as the droplets of water hit the black pool. It created a ripple effect across the surface.
Afterward, she walked barefooted towards the tree where she had lain her clothes down. She picked them up and slipped them on. Like she had often done before, Lyanna started her morning ride in the wolfswood, albeit she had only began bathing in the hot spring when she ended up dirty and sweaty afterwards.
Lyanna knew that there were a lot of things that she could gain from horseback riding. She had come to realize that such exercise could improve her balance and stability which was something critical that she needed to learn when she would start training sword fighting by herself. This would prevent herself from being overpowered by an adversary in sword fighting as being small of stature and slender could certainly put her at a disadvantage. She also needed to work around this weakness and learn how to immediately transfer weight on her body to keep her center of gravity stable.
During her morning rides, Lyanna had often pushed herself to remain on the saddle even when she changed the speed and maneuvered her horse around any obstacles that could easily unseat her. It was a kind of training to master her core muscles, to stay put in the saddle even throughout the speed with which the outside forces would quickly shift against her. She knew that she could harness these skills more on the ground, where the terrain was more compact and easy to maneuver around. Thus, improving her balance and stability would prevent anyone from taking her unawares and gaining ground on her.
Meanwhile, the muscles that Lyanna had manage to build since she had begun riding had helped too. She remembered how she had ache all over after she had taken to horseback riding, but it was a sweet ache which slowly faded as Lyanna continued with her morning rides. Lyanna had built lean muscles on her thighs and legs through the years, and this was something Lyanna could use when she would begin her informal training at arms. More than that, horseback riding had also helped Lyanna with coordination and flexibility. Two essential things that she would certainly refined on while she would target other weaknesses that she would come across during her exercises or drills.
Eye-hand coordination, rhythm, swift reaction-time and balance made up for coordination, elements that would help Lyanna deliver strikes without hesitation, to attack with speed and accuracy, but with equal amounts of deliberate calculation, whereas better flexibility meant a better range of motion, which in turn would reduce tension on her muscles and lessen the risk of injury if it came to lifting heavy objects - a requirement that she needed to learn when it was time for Lyanna to use a real sword, since holding one was not as easy as her father's household guards made it looked.
Holding a blade would require muscles in the arms and excellent grip to prevent injury on oneself or anyone within the vicinity, such as accidentally throwing the sword after losing its grip, or an uncontrolled follow-through that could result to hacking one's limbs in half. But for Lyanna to practice safely, or without fear of injuring herself, she needed to strengthen her arms as well. Though of course, she would start her training by using a stick or a practice sword. This was what Lyanna had begun planning after she had read the instructional tomes she had snuck out from the Winterfell's library. Some of the books she had read contained sketches of the proper ways to wield weapons, though it was not the same if Lyanna had someone to teach her personally. Yet she had to make do with what she had than made it known to her father what she was doing while she snuck out to the Godswood by herself.
After Lyanna slipped into her clothes, she knelt down in front of the weirdwood tree and touched it's brooding face. Her fingers brushing against the red sap that seeped from its eyes.
It always unnerved Lyanna to see the red sap and couldn't help but feel curious as to the reason why the weirdwood looked like it was crying blood. Lyanna had asked Old Nan once and the woman had simply told her, "The weirdwood tree shed its bloody tears for it is sad."
"Why is it sad?"
"Because the Old Gods have watched their children kill each other since the Dawn of Days. They watch when one brother is set against the other, when certain sacrifices must be made...and when blood must be shed from those who are marked and chained to the role of a yearly King."
"A yearly King?"
"Aye, a King who is killed when crops do not grow, for to spill their blood upon the earth, the water, the snow, or upon the sands, can promise a bountiful harvest before the coming Winter…"
"But that is terrible thing to do! Are you speaking true, Old Nan?"
"It is only a tale milady, told by those before me…but there is often a grain of truth from the tales I tell you…It is a terrible thing to use blood sacrifices…and dark…but All Kings must die, milady…and the King's blood will water the crops that needs to be watered, and beneath the earth, there are those who are always hungry..."
"Who? Who are hungry?"
"Why the children, milady. The children who is there before us…"
"Do you mean the children of the forest?"
"Hmn...Do you ever wonder why there is war, Lady Lyanna?" Old Nan had asked instead of answering her question.
"Yes…"
"Because when there is war, there is bloodshed….and when there is blood, there is Iron. To most, blood sacrifice is made to ask the Gods for divine protection. It is a ritual offering for those who sleep beneath the earth and water… to pay the Iron price, as the Ironborn often said."
"What do you mean by it, Old Nan?"
"War and bloodshed is required to bring in a new world, milady…where a new Queen can undo what has been written…and break the chains to herald for a new age to come…"
Lyanna had shivered when Old Nan had told her the reason.
"Iron from Ice, is The House Forrester's words…" was Old Nan's next cryptic words. "For Iron comes from Ice…you must remember that, Lady Lyanna, for Winter is Coming, and what you are my lady, you are made of Iron... You possess the crown with the iron thorns."
"A crown of iron thorns? But I am no Queen, Old Nan…and I don't have a crown."
Old Nan had chuckled then, as if she knew a certain secret that Lyanna was not privy to.
"Aye, you are no Queen, Lady Lyanna…" Old Nan had replied, but her eyes seemed to say,"Not yet…"
"But soon enough, you will come to understand how wars are started…and then you shall see when the Dragons dance."
"The Dance of Dragons." Lyanna had murmured, "But Brandon said the Dragons are all dead… Most of them perished during the Dance …" and then it came to her all of a sudden, "the Dragon's blood…most of the battle was done above the Gods Eye during the Dance, and in the Riverlands. Blood had run red in the water… The Dance of Dragons was a bloodletting, wasn't it?"
At her words, Lyanna had recalled how Old Nan had simply cackled like a chicken and begun muttering to herself.
"Oh, how the white-haired harpy shall scream when her reign shall end. The Age of Heroes shall come again…"
Old Nan had left afterward without answering Lyanna's questions. The woman had never told her who the white-haired harpy was and her statement about a second Age of Heroes.
Lyanna bowed her head and payed her respect to the Old Gods. In silence, she prayed and asked for pardon if she might have disturbed the rest of those sleeping around the sacred grove. She knew that her singing was loud enough to wake the dead.
The cold wind blew against her flush face, stirring wisps of her dark brown hair.
"Then, as he watched, a bearded man forced a captive down onto his knees before the heart tree. A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand.
"No," said Bran, "no, don't," but they could not hear him, no more than his father had. The woman grabbed the captive by the hair, hooked the sickle round his throat, and slashed.
And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch as the man's feet drummed against the earth … but as his life flowed out of him in a red tide, Brandon Stark could taste the blood."
-A Dance of Dragons by G.R.R Martin
Two moons had passed since she had begun her lesson with Old Nan. By this point, Lyanna had also began observing her brothers while they trained. There was a covered bridge just in front of the yard that connected to the bailey. It was there that Lyanna usually spent her time watching her brothers do their morning drills.
The master-at-arms usually start with a simple-enough stretching exercises. Lyanna took note of those. After allowing her brothers to stretch, Master Cassell would ask both Brandon and Ned to position themselves in their normal fighting stance, wherein the Master-at-Arms always found something wrong with her brother's stances, scolding both her brothers none-too-gently.
And as soon as the Master Cassell was done correcting them, the court yard would fill with the ringing noises of hitting wood against wood as her brothers took turns attacking at each other.
She carefully observed their footwork and how they struck. Both her brothers were quick on their feet, Lyanna had to admit, but sometimes she noted the hesitation there as well by the way they seemed to forgo using a follow-through, or how either of their foot would end up half-lifted off the ground.
More than that, she noticed all at once that her brothers projected their planned of attack so obviously with their body movements.
CLACK – CLACK – CLACK
Brandon was striking wildly, putting more strength in his blows, with his sword striking Ned's shield with a loud THUNK! that was sure to rattle anyone's teeth. Ned was sure-footed but even he nearly stumbled when Brandon lashed out with his sword.
"Come on, Ned."
Brandon's voice drifted towards her as she saw him shift to the left ever so slightly, and Lyanna knew instantly Brandon was about to attack Ned's right side.
And she was right. Brandon brought his sword out, where Ned barely countered it with his own in time.
CLACK! was the sound as their practice sword clash, with Ned attacking almost at once.
Lyanna watched as Brandon twisted to the side and out of the way as Ned aimed for his shoulder, using his sword to parry Ned's sword away.
"You need to be faster, dear brother." Brandon said while doing that tell-tale roll of his shoulder for a brief moment that Lyanna knew her brother would attack with a lunge and an upward slash.
Not a moment later, Brandon did just that.
Lyanned sighed out loud when she saw this. She wanted to go down there and reprimand him for it, for being so obvious in what he intended to do.
"As you sorely need to keep quiet, Brandon." Ned responded in a soft voice, though Lyanna could still hear him speak from where she stood in the covered bridge. "I think there's no need of talk during training. It will only serve to distract you."
"As it will serve to distract you too, brother of mine."
Lyanna saw the lunged coming before Ned did.
With his right foot skidding on the ground, Brandon lunged forward and swung, bringing his sword down. Ned failed to raise his shield on time and Brandon's sword hit Ned squarely in the right shoulder.
THUMP!
She saw Ned winced in pain, but he was quick to retaliate. Lyanna could clearly read her brother's next move, as clear as day and as easily like she could read his mind.
Inwardly, Lyanna sighed.
There it was, the dipping of Ned's head and twisting of his wrist, with his eyes flashing left, that could only mean that he was about to evade and attack with a down stroke at the same time.
Ned favored this move. Lyanna had oft times seen him do it that she wanted to scold him as well.
SMACK! THUCK!
She watched as her brothers exchange more strikes while raising their shields up. But as she continued to observe both of them, Lyanna was tempted to close her eyes in exasperation.
No, both of her brothers needed a thorough scolding. Their moves were so plain to see that Lyanna feared for her brothers' lives if they got into a fight in the future. These were an unconscious move, yet if not checked or immediately corrected, it could very well mean her brothers deaths if their enemies noticed them.
Ned projected his attack through a simple dip of his head, the twist of his wrist and the bending of his knee, added to that was the constant shifting of his eyes whenever he planned to twist around or evade. Brandon, on the other hand, was not even trying to be subtle. His fighting style was as loud as he loudly boasted the numbers of girls he had kissed.
An adversary with a keen, observant eye would not miss these things, while a smart adversary would certainly keep track on these moves and use them to counteract her brothers' attacks. Her brothers would become too predictable, if that was the case, and this would be their undoing. Brandon and Ned need to learn to focus on their adversary's movements and minimize theirs.
Lyanna knew this. She could almost recall having taught the same thing to people who exaggerate their hand movements despite using non-verbal words to attack. A simple flick and wave would have sufficed but aggressive fighters tend to use the maximum space to draw out more power of their attack, and forget the need for subtlety.
This was what they had reasoned to her, Lyanna dimly recalled, but in theory, drawing power through exaggerated had movements was not possible.
She couldn't understand what those hand movements were used for. However, she knew the lesson learned could be applied similarly to swordfighting, albeit more on close-range combat.
There was tickle at the back of her mind telling Lyanna that she had taught – no, trained and even led a squad of her own. She knew there had been a squad of novices whom she had trained in defense to fight against the dark side. And later on, she had lead battle-hardened men who would not hesitate to use force if necessary and bloodying their hands when it came to that. While somewhere in her obscure memories, Lyanna could almost hear the ghost of a mentor who had always reminded her to keep a 'Constant Vigilance'; a mentor with a swiveling eye that could see the back of his head.
It reminded Lyanna somehow of Bryden Rivers, or as some people called him Bloodraven, whom was said to have ruled the Seven Kingdoms in all but name with his spies and spells, which inspired singers to make a song for him.
'How many eyes does Bloodraven have?' Lyanna thought. 'A thousand eyes, and One.'
And the thought of a person having a thousand eyes to watch over the world made Lyanna shiver and wondered if she was being watch herself too. But who would care to keep an eye on a girl like her? Lyanna was no older than eight. The Northman's daughter. No one of importance… except perhaps she was more of use to her father by marrying her off to secure allegiance with the other great Houses which she knew Maester Walys had begun planting in her father's head.
She suspected this when the Maester had begun teaching Lyanna about heraldry and the family history of the Baratheon's, the Tully's and the Arryn's. Great Houses which Lyanna knew whose blood could be trace back to the blood of the First Men.
"Come on, Ned! Stop hesitating and strike me!"
Lyanna straightened up as her attention went back to her brothers on the courtyard. Brandon was boasting again.
"You're slow as turtle, dear brother, though not as shy as our little brother."
Lyanna wanted to roll her eyes at Brandon's words.
What was the use of wanting to become a knight when Lyanna couldn't even go down there on the training yard to join and practice with her brothers? Even more so when she didn't' dare correct her brothers? For certain, her brothers wouldn't take her reprimand very well. She could almost imagine them telling her these things, 'How would you know about swordfighting Lyanna, when you haven't even been taught once?' Or her brothers could simply say to her, 'You know nothing, Lyanna,'and that would be far more hurtful than she would care to admit.
Because, truly, there were things that Lyanna knew nothing about, like the riddles her mind seemed to love throwing at her, riddles made up of broken and faded memories that she had difficult time piecing together. Perhaps Lyanna was a sphinx, more of the riddle and not the riddler. Her mind produced so many riddles that it oft times gave Lyanna a slight itch and an occasionally throbbing headache that started from her right forehead. She could not get rid of the sensation no matter what salve she put. The place in her right forehead was unblemished and smooth. Yet her mind seemed convince that there was an unhealed scar there.
A cursed scar that she wanted to scratch out until it bled.
And felt like she had three heads weighing heavily upon her shoulder.
Three lives, she supposed in her mind. Like a cat had three lives. If she died, then she'll have two lives left, but every time she die and brought back to life, she would end up losing a part of herself. Some parts of her life she would forget and from there she would descend down and down into the earth, with no light to light her way, deep into the crypts, into the darkness where her doom awaited. Where she would finally meet her maker...with the pale blue eyes of Death staring straight at her.
"You need to keep your shield up, my Lord." the voice of Master Cassel brought Lyanna abruptly to the present and she looked down towards the training yard.
It seemed Brandon had bested Ned for the third time that day.
She could see Ned rubbing a hand on his stomach with a slight grimace on his face. His practice sword lying discarded on the ground.
"Alright, Ned?" her other brother, Brandon, asked, looking amused, with his practice sword slung across his right shoulder.
In response, Lyanna saw Ned pursed his lips while he stooped low to pick up his own sword.
Lyanna leaned against the post of the covered bridge and crossed her arms in front of her, watching them with a small smile gracing her lips.
Brandon always loved to picked on Ned when he was defeated, while Ned merely suffered it in silent dignity.
"Did I not tell you that I will win this round, dear brother?" came Brandon's arrogant words, unslinging the flat of his sword from his shoulder and grinning. "You better keep up, Ned, before our Lord father sends me away a moon turns from now. Who are you going to fight with when I leave for Barrowtown? Not Lyanna, that's for certain."
She could hear Brandon's chuckle afterward while Ned simply positioned himself into a fighting stance. Silent as ever.
At her brother's statement, Lyanna's brows knitted. It was true. Ned was a bit slower than Brandon, but after carefully observing them, she noticed that Ned had far better qualities as a fighter than Brandon in all honesty.
Compared to Brandon, Ned had the patience to wait out and gauge his enemy before attacking. Brandon, on the other hand, had neither the patience and he was more apt to end the fight soon with his brash moves and lightning-fast attacks that would easily tire him.
Brandon relied on his brute strength and speed than careful deliberation.
If Ned was given the time to train more and developed his skills, Lyanna was certain that her other brother could outfight and out tire Brandon.
As of now, Ned was still learning, as Lyanna was learning from both her brothers.
"My Lords," Master Cassell interrupted. "Might we begin again?"
Lyanna saw Ned inclined his head mutely, his foot sliding across the ground to widen his stance, while her other brother, Brandon, slinked into position with an air of confidence and a sly smile on his lips.
"Of course," she heard Brandon say, observing how her older brother raised his sword in front of him and tightening his hold on the shield he held on his left arm.
"Ready Ned?" Brandon asked, his dark grey eyes glittering. "Better keep that shield up, brother, or I'll ring that head of yours like a bell."
The master-at-arms looked at Ned then and Lyanna listened to Martyn Cassell give him advise.
"Before you raise your shield up, my Lord, draw strength from both shoulder and arm, tightened your hold on the strap. With your feet braced apart, leaned forward a bit. You must watch where the sword is about to land and only move to ensure that it hits the shield."
"I understand," She heard Ned say whose gaze had not left Brandon, who by this point was waiting impatiently.
"But try not to hide behind your shield too much, Ned," came Brandon's remarked just as Master Cassell said, "You may begin."
At once, her brothers attacked each other. The yard instantly filling with the sounds of wood hitting wood.
CLACK – CLACK – CLACK
She could tell Ned was determined to defeat Brandon this time. His movements were more measured and his eyes were narrowed and watchful. Lyanna smiled as she observed them, at least there was an improvement, albeit her brother still needed to minimize those instinctual habits.
In the end, Lyanna kept her silence and simply watched as her brothers honed their martial ability while she shelved the things she saw in her memory.
Master Cassell was no Knight by any means, but he was good with arms, so Lyanna could not fault him for the lack of knowledge in some areas. It was for this reason that her father was convinced to send her brother Brandon to Barrowtown and complete his training there. Maester Waly's work, to be sure, the man from the Citadel had been whispering in her father's ears as of late, planting some seeds of southron ambition if nothing else.
It was concerning for Lyanna to hear this as it would mean that her father would betrothed her to someone in a few years. Someone of importance. Most likely from one of the Great Houses of which Maester Walys' had begun teaching her about. Either from House Tully or Baratheon, one of which has male heirs already for her to marry.
As she thought more on it carefully, Lyanna could easily guess her Lord father was going to betrothed her to one of the heirs from House Baratheon as the house has strong ties to the Iron throne. Lyanna also heard that Maester Walys had began suggesting that Ned be fostered at the Vale, alongside the Baratheon heir.
If only Lyanna had been born a man and she would have the choice to marry anyone she loves. Lyanna would have even gone with Brandon in the Barrowlands if it had been the case, to train alongside him as a knight.
CLACK – CLACK – THUMP!
"Your aim is still off, Ned." Brandon was saying after raising his shield up when Ned tried for a swift lunge, but Brandon parried Ned's next attack and pressing his own.
Lyanna continued to observe her brothers. Perhaps she would talk to Master Cassell later and mentioned the important things that her brothers needed to learn.
However, Lyanna would have to choose her words carefully as not to offend the Master-at-Arms in how he trained her brothers. She didn't want to suffer training under a teacher who would despise her just because of something she said. Because she might need the master-at-arms to train her with the bow once Lyanna got to broach the subject to her father.
