Melara entered the bedchamber quietly. Her full skirts swished softly, the noise of it almost loud in the stillness. Cersei was sitting upon the bed, combing her golden ringlets with even strokes. Shutting the door, Melara inched closer to her, barely holding back her smile. A small snort left the lioness. "Must you be so filled with joy this early in the morning?" asked the daughter of Tywin Lannister, lips pouting in displeasure.

"'Tis no fault of mine, Cersei, that your Prince did not dance with you," Melara laughed. Not only had Oberyn Martell not danced with her, he'd not even acknowledged her properly. Knowing all about the matter, the older of the two sat down as well. "He is acting foolishly. If you find it so abhorrent, though, why not ask your mother to break the betrothal?"

"He will not have the satisfaction," Cersei murmured after a moment of silent contemplation. "Have I asked for too much, Melara? I simply wanted to see the man I shall one day wed."

"Nay, not too much. Mayhap it was just the wrong person you've asked. I still do not understand what you see in him." She shrugged, a tendril of black hair soiling over her shoulder as she leaned forwards. "Robert Baratheon is twice as handsome and less likely to act as the Dornish Prince."

Cersei Lannister wrinkled her nose. "Did you not see how he followed the Stark maiden around? Besides, Baratheon-Lannister marriages do not end well. Or do you not remember poor Tya's tale?"

Tya Lannister had been the last to wed a Baratheon and her death had come is rather suspect circumstances after she had failed to produce a male child for her husband. Or any child for that matter. She'd given birth the babe had died fairly quick. No one had ever accused the husband, of course. But the fact that he took up with his mistress ours after his wife's death, had been, at the very least, worth some consideration. And since then, no Lannister maiden had been offered to a Baratheon. And the Baratheons in turn never sought alliances with the Lannisters. It was a comfortable arrangement for both.

"That aside," Cersei continued, "Robert Baratheon merits no attention from me for the simple fact that I already know who my future husband is. It is in poor taste to forget myself so."

"I see. Very well then." Melara the comb from Cersei's hand. "Mayhap it would be wise then to turn our attention upon other matters. You shan't guess who I have seen sneaking about on my walk."

"Of course I shan't. You'll be telling me," Cersei pointed out, snatching the comb back. "Whoever they are, they must be about as sane as you to be up and about at this ungodly hour."

Tsking softly, Melara feigned displeasure at such treatment. "I will tell you nothing if you act thus." One baleful look later though, she disclosed the identity of the person. "'Twas none other than Lady Stark's middle brother. That one who looks rather like he is carrying the weight of the world."

"Eddard, I believe," Cersei supplied. He was a nice enough lad, a bit older than her. She'd made his acquaintance at the feast as he'd been among those who had danced with her. He must have been visiting some tent, as men usually did. "What of it?"

"He was carrying with him bits or armour," Melara whispered, suddenly serious. "Even if he wanted to surprise his brother, is it not a bit early?"

It could be that Brandon Stark was an early riser. Cersei shrugged. Melara was wont to see shadows where there were none. Once she'd convinced her that the cook was putting strange ingredients in their food and when Cersei had demanded to be shown, it turned out that all it was, was ground Dornish peppers. Needless to say, her lord father hadn't exactly thanked her for the intervention.

"Last you said something similar I ended up disallowed from leaving my room for a fortnight. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Is that not so?" At her friend's apologetic smile, Cersei simply nodded her head. "It does not matter what Eddard Stark does those bits of armour."

"I still say 'tis suspect." A warning glance was shot her way. "But if you truly do not wish to hear of it, then let us speak of other matters. Such as, mayhap, the reason for which that poor Princess of ours is now in the company of not one, but two Kingsguards."

"I've heard it was some incident at the stables. Father said something of it to mother, but I wasn't allowed to stay and listen." And that was not the worst of it. Cersei truly did think them exaggerated in their attempt to keep her and Jaime away from politics. She was not a child. "It seems I am still a girl playing with flowers in their eyes."

Melara was a luckier sort. e was both older than Cersei and freer. In fact, the only restriction pushed her way was that she mightn't see her betrothed unless another person was with them.

"You jest. They shall wed you and send you off soon and then you will miss their care." Wise words from a maiden. They both burst into giggles. "I do mean it, Cersei," Melara continued nonetheless. "Mayhap it is only so they mayn't burden you with such problems as those they know of. I find it commendable."

"And to me 'tis astounding and annoying at the same time. If I were Jaime I might have at last managed to convince father to tell me." But she was not Jaime.

"If you were Jaime, I would still be at the Rock. Enough of that. You are at a tourney. A handsome knight might crown you his Queen of Love and Beauty. Is that not enough?" By way of cheering her up, it did work.

"Aye, 'tis good enough."


Robert let go of her hand, his words still ringing in her ears. Lyanna tried, with all her might, not to show her relative annoyance at his presence. She hoped it worked. Not that Robert had ever needed encouragement.

"You truly do look splendid this morning, my lady," he complimented, eyes lingering on her longer than was necessarily proper.

Hiding her hand away, the she-wolf wondered if it was awfully childish of her that she wanted to wipe his touch away. Her protest was to Robert's morality, and by extent his touch. "My lord is too kind," she replied in an even tone. Her aunt was nearby in any event. "Shall you be riding the joust?"

"Nay, my lady. My skills are not that grand, I fear. 'Tis the melee for me." He gave her a handsome smile. Despite herself, Lyanna was charmed by the appearance. She could but smile back. "Mayhap my lady would be so kind as to give me her favour."

"Apologies," Lyanna replied after a moment's hesitation. She did not want to give him her favour. Yet that did not embarrass him either. "I have already offered it to my brother." That would do well. None could fault such a decision. Not even Robert himself.

He looked crestfallen at the news, but did not insist. Such behaviour mellowed Lyanna's disposition even further. "But if it please my lord, I shall pray the gods that you win." And that was all she was willing to do, truly. Mayhap 'twas for the best to act thus.

Any further foray into awkward territory was stopped by the arrival of her youngest brother. Benjen looked between her and Robert, a question in his eyes. Lyanna nodded her head nearly imperceptibly. While it was Benjen's opinion that Robert Baratheon was a capital fellow in his own way, he also respected his sister enough to keep into mind her own opinions. Thus, he was not averse to helping her out from time to time.

"There you are, sister," he spoke loudly. "Brandon is in high dudgeon, murmuring about someone having taken one of his gauntlets." There was a cry for help in there as well. Lyanna arched an eyebrow. "My lord, perhaps in light of what you've heard, you might spare my sister for now."

"I daresay they would be lost without me," Lyanna tittered lightly for effect. "Pray do not tale to heart my departure, hasty as it is. I wish you good fortune on the field." She gave a shallow curtsey and left before his answer could reach her. He would undoubtedly think of it as her need to reach her brother sooner.

Once they were a safe distance away, Lyanna could not help but ask, "Is he truly in a foul mood?"

"I would not lie," Benjen answered, laughter in his voice. "One of his gauntlets is truly missing. Ned thought that mayhap we had mistakenly placed it among the other pieces."

"Well then, we can but look in the trunk," Lyanna offered.

And so they did.

"I told you, did I not?" a voice interrupted their clandestine attempts to return Brandon's gauntlet just as they were exiting her tent. Lyanna froze, staring at Cersei Lannister and an unknown lady, who she could only conclude was a companion to the one she knew.

Light blue eyes watched her attentively, while the green pair rolled in what seemed to be slight exasperation. "Very well, I admit it is strange. But mayhap Lady Stark had a truly good reason for sneaking around with pieces of armour."

There were no good reasons. Her face must have shown it. Cersei looked at her companion, then at the two Starks. "Or it could be that such a reason does not exist, in which case, my lady, you have made me curious."

"The matter is for us to know, Benjen replied somewhat snappishly at that, thinking to drive the two away.

He was rewarded with a glare for his efforts. "I did not speak to you, child." She must have been channelling her father. Lyanna pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Lady Stark."

"I suppose there is little reason to hide this," she managed to speak. "Take this to Brandon," Lyanna said, handing the gauntlet to Benjen. "I shall keep company with Lady Lannister and," she trailed off.

"Melara Hetherspoon," the dark haired young woman offered.

Benjen was on his way without needing much convincing. That left Lyanna with the two ladies and a story to say. "Before I begin, I must ask that this tale goes not further than the three of us. 'Tis important that is remains so."

One beamed at her triumphantly and the other nodded solemnly. Taking that as proof enough, Lyanna, making her way between them, began to walk back towards the stands. They were not very far off, but enough to make the story known.

Cersei and Melara listened with great interest, properly impressed with Lyanna's courage and equally disgusted with those squires. It was heartening to have their support in her scheme, for Lyanna knew she had that at least.

"Your brother must be a very kind and righteous sort," Cersei commented after finding out about Ned's involvement. "My own is such a man too."

"Jaime truly is," Melara sighed. "You are a curious creature. But this place is dreadfully boring. Therefore, a bit of excitement would do us all a world of good. I say we aid her, Cersei."

"And I agree," came the answer. "This knight of yours, point him out to me when he makes his way to the joust and we shall have all people properly confused."

"What mean you?" Lyanna questioned, interest rising.

"Simply that every good knight deserves the favour of a beautiful lady," Cersei offered. She pushed a thick curl of golden hair behind her ear. "And none shall know his allegiance that way. Who know, perhaps he might even win."

Lyanna was doubtful of that. Still, she nodded her head. Her brother might not have entered to win the joust, and mayhap he would be unhorsed before such plans could even be made, yet the excitement of those two Southron maidens proved too much for her to deny them their belief.


Through the visor, Ned could see Lyanna sitting next to Brandon. She had adopted a properly curious mien and with a subtle gesture of her hand urged him to look in another direction. Having caught that, Ned pressed his heels in the flanks of hi horse Benjen had found for him Yet as he did so, something else caught his eye.

The golden haired Cersei, whom he had danced with at the opening feast, was beckoning her over to what looked to be her mother's horror and chastisement. Unable to refuse, Ned made his way towards her, holding his weapon in one hand. The stands were tall and the lady had to lean over in order to wrap her favour around the jousting lance.

"I have heard that you are a man of honour good ser knight," she spoke, her voice sweet and quiet, "and I truly hope this brings you lock." A smile painted her lips. "May the gods, old and new, have you in their care."

He gave a nod of his head. Again, she smiled. "You mustn't keep quiet. Use your loudest voice." And with that piece of advice she retreated back to her seat. Lyanna must have spoken to her, otherwise she would not act with such familiarity towards him.

Knowing that he could not speak to her unless she approached him, Ned drove his horse away. His eyes made to find Lady Ashara Dayne. She sat next to the Dornish Princess, curiosity playing upon her features.


He had cited the need to restore Howland Reed's honour for his reason and that was all Rhaegar needed to know in order to be aware that whoever the mystery knight was, he was not unknown to Lyanna Stark, despite what her features might have said. And when Cersei Lannister offered her favour, he became sure that, unless he too offered some sort of protection, all their efforts would be in vain. Not because they were not noble, daring and to be commended, but because the King did not look particularly thrilled.

"This is a plot," his father said, light violet eyes burning into his. He had his suspicions. Rhaegar shook his head. "They want to kill me. I know it."

"Your Grace, that is not true. The people love their king," his mother had ventured, almost shy in manner. "The knight seems to be a honourable sort, to be defending others."

Silently thanking her for the intervention, Rhaegar hurried to strengthen the impression of her word with his own, "Your Grace would have undoubtedly known of whatever plot was being put together if ever there was one. Lord Varys would not have kept us in the dark about such matters." The Spider. Rhaegar fought the urge to grimace.

Thankfully, they did manage to calm the King down and the joust could be proceeded with without further interruption. All that Rhaegar needed to figure out was who the knight was, so he might warn him away before an even more dangerous situation could be born.