Chapter 9

The bath water was warm and inviting as Lyla sunk into it. It was early morning, just after dawn, but Sansa had slammed her bedroom door open and forced her awake before she had a chance to protest.

"What's it like to kiss a man?" Sansa asked from where she stood in Lyla 's main chamber, holding up her sister's dresses to her frame in front of a tall looking glass.

Lyla raised a brow, "Why do you ask, sister?" The only times she'd kissed a man were when Jaime kissed her in the field behind the training yard and the previous day, when she'd kissed his scruffy cheek. She still was in ae of how easy it was to be gentle in his presence.

"Jeyne Poole told me that you and Ser Jaime-"

"Sansa, I don't know how your beloved Jeyne finds out about those things, but they're personal and they're not for your ears." Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be and she sighed, closing her eyes as she sank further into the depths of the tub. The water was scented with fragrances that she'd brought back with her from her last trip to Highgarden; fragrances of roses and honey and something spicy she'd never been able to name.

Sansa walked into the bathing chamber and sat by the window, looking out at the rolling hills. "Aren't you excited? You're marrying a knight with golden hair, oh he's so handsome Lyla, aren't you in the least bit excited?"

Lyla laughed at her sister's voice as it grew more and more eager. "He'll be a lord, Sansa, he's not a knight. At least he won't be for much longer."

"But he was a knight- the best in the Realm!"

"I'll have to leave the capitol soon after arriving, Sansa. To leave for the Rock. Only a few moons time, I'm sure. Mayhaps father will let me take you to Casterly Rock, so you can be looked after."

Sansa shook her head, auburn curls splaying around her. "I can't leave King's Landing, I'll be Joffrey's lady and he wouldn't want me to go. We can send ravens, though, and surely Her Grace would let us visit you when you have a baby- Oh Lyla you'll have such beautiful golden babies! They'll be so pink and pretty with such beautiful hair and-"

"Are you sure that you're not talking about your own excitement to wed the crowned prince?" Lyla's eyes opened and she looked to her sister. Sansa was so beautiful- bold red curls and simply lovely blue eyes, both of which stood out intensely against her snowy pale skin. But the prince… Lyla didn't get a good vibe from him, and the way he looked at Sansa, as though she were a possession and not his betrothed, didn't help.

Sansa blushed and looked down. "Isn't he just beautiful? He's my prince and he'll be my husband and we'll have perfect yellow haired babies."

Lyla finished scrubbing her skin and lathering her hair, and was rinsing it out as Sansa continued.

"We'll be married as soon as I'm a woman grown I bet- oh that's so soon! I'm terribly excited."

She got up to help her sister out of the tub and Lyla quickly patted herself dry with a towel before slipping into a thick robe. "You sound as though you already love him, Sansa." Lyla laughed and changed into her smallclothes, Sansa handing her a far too formal gown for riding. "Have you forgotten I'm riding with the rest of them?"

Careful of her stitches, Sansa wrapped a fresh ribbon around her forearm and shrugged. "You're supposed to love you husband- and father said you can't ride anymore because of your arm." She offered the thin, wispy blue gown that would complement her eyes again.

Lyla shook her head. "I am not glass, dear sister," she replied lightly, pulling out a much more modest light grey gown with green stitching and laces. Sansa was going to argue, but Lyla raised her brow as though daring her.

Sighing in defeat, the younger Stark daughter helped her sister dress in the modest riding gown and then tied the sling over her neck, slightly tighter than was necessary. "Ow," Lyla gruffed, but Sansa only frowned.

"It would be much easier to sit in a litter than riding with your arm bouncing around."

When she replied to her sister this time, her voice was firm. "I'm riding."

"Mother will be furious."

"Mother won't be there, Sansa."

Lyla grabbed a brush, running it through her hair where she sat by the lit brazier to help it dry. Sansa was already dressed for the day, adorned in a gown of thin wools, yellow and black to show her budding alliance with Prince Joffrey Baratheon, bright curls left flowing around her shoulders aside from two tight braids atop her head that twisted together in the back. She envied her sister's beauty.

When her hair was mostly dry the curls began to scrunch up and tighten, looking fluffier than she was used to. Sansa bit her lip as she thought on how to fix it, but Lyla shook her head. "It'll fluff in the wind as I ride anyways," she insisted, her sister helping her pull tall black riding boots over her legs.

"Mayhaps you should let me braid it…"

"I'd rather not. It's only fall out when I ride."

Sansa smiled pleadingly. "But I'm good at it. Please sister, please let me!"

After a few more moments of going back and forth, Lyla surrendered to Sansa's begging and sat back in her chair as her sister twisted and plaited her unruly brown curls. She thought she would have dozed off, but her thoughts kept her vigil.

She thought Jaime Lannister. Of how when he kissed her she slapped him and ran away. He shouldn't have done it, she thought, kissed her that is. But at the same time, she was thinking of how she kissed him- on the cheek not the lips- and how he smiled at her after.

He had opened up to her, and looked almost in pain as he recalled his memories of Casterly Rock and his mother. She also remembered how he'd carried her inside after she missed her duck from Robb's slash.

He'd let her hold his hand, held it back even, and she recollected how her father stared at their interlocked fingers before he left, grumbling. She figured she should play nice with him and found herself enjoying it as they walked through the courtyard. Their walk abruptly ended after she kissed his cheek, though, when Arya came running by and pulled her away to help her hide from Septa Mordane.

"Lyla?"

She looked up to see her sister before her. She must have finished the braid. How long had she been lost in thought? "Yes, Sansa?"

"Did Ser Jaime kiss you?" It was an odd question, and Lyla raised a brow.

"Why do you ask?"

Her sister shuffled nervously. "I think Prince Joffrey might want to…"

Lyla narrowed her eyes. "You won't let him, Sansa." It was more of a command than anything else, and her little sister shrunk, nodding. Then she sighed at Sansa's saddened expression, and was reminded of her earlier question. "Yes, he did kiss me," Lyla admitted, laughing when Sansa squeaked.

"Oh really? Was it wonderful? Was it passionate? Septa said that lords and their lady wives should always share kisses- to show their love."

"We're not married yet, little sister." Lyla shook her head with a smile and stood, inspecting the plait in the looking glass. It was fine work, tight but not painful. "It was quick. Nothing to sing about."

Sansa looked sad. "What if my first kiss with Joffrey is nothing to sing about?"

Lyla raised a brow. "Your first kiss with Joffrey won't be until your wedding day, I hope."

"Of course!" Her sister blushed beet red and looked over to the window. "We should go to the main hall and break our fasts before we have to say our goodbyes."

It was almost like a feast- the tables were full of meats and bread and fancy wines and, to Sansa's excitement, cakes. Even the lemon kind she loved so much. They sat with what members of their family were awake; Robb, Jon, and Arya. Lord Eddard sat beside Lyla not long after she filled her plate.

"How's your arm?" asked Robb with soft eyes.

Lyla smiled. "Fine. Robb, it's not your fault. I should have been wearing armor."

"Like they'd ever make armor for a woman," Theon muttered, sipping on a cup of wine.

"Isn't it a bit early for you to drink, Greyjoy?" Jon smiled triumphantly when Lord Eddard raised a brow at the chalice, nodding in agreement to his son.

"Lyla," Lord Eddard turned slightly to face her, noticing the riding gown. "I don't want you riding. Your arm is hurt enough as it is and I'll not have it."

Lyla's brows rose. "I've broken my leg before and still rode the very next day!"

"This is different- you'll not be riding with northerners who will help you if you fall. We'll be surrounded by men from the south, and they'll not take it kindly when they see a highborn lady trying to ride with them and asking for assistance."

"I don't see why it matters… Father, I'm better in the saddle than any of them! Besides, Willas Tyrell picked out Morrow especially for me, it's not like I'm riding a simple-minded lame stallion."

"Lyla your arm-"

"Father, I'm not a little girl, don't worry about me. I'll be fine on Morrow and I won't say a word the whole trip."

Lord Eddard regarded her for a moment before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. "We're riding out as soon as the King has woken up and broken his fast. If you're to ride with us, I'll not hear a complaint from you the whole way or you'll be sent back to Winterfell."

Lyla beamed and kissed her father's cheek before he rose and took his leave.

"I expect you to say goodbye to your mother when you go to Bran."

Her smile fell. "Yes, father."

She wasn't looking forward to seeing her mother, not after she'd been told of her mother's wishes that it was her who fell and not Bran. She didn't even think she'd say goodbye to Bran in fear of seeing Catelyn, but she pushed those ideas away days ago.

Theon noticed the frown on her lips and tried to give her a light smile. "Would you like an escort, my lady?"

She nodded softly, rising and taking his arm when he offered it. She'd lost whatever apatite she had.

"Theon, I don't know what I'm going to do without you," Lyla whispered as they walked through the hall to Bran's room.

Theon smiled down at her. "I always thought we'd get married, you know."

"I know. I did too." It wasn't a lie. She always had a soft spot for Theon- he was handsome and always kind to her. As they grew up together her father and mother even suggested the match, but it never ended up happening.

"I'm going to miss you, Stark," Theon murmured as they slowly stopped walking, turning to face one another. "I wish that it was us marrying. That way you could stay here. Stay home."

While not a Stark, Winterfell was more home to Theon than the Iron Islands, and Lyla always liked how he regarded it as such. "Your father would never allow it. That's probably why we aren't engaged right now." She laughed lightly and then frowned. "Theon, this won't be the last time we speak will it?"

"Of course not, we've got all day."

"Theon I'm serious."

He sighed and shrugged. "I'll write if you do."

"Of course I'll write." Lyla let a smile play on her lips. She wouldn't be without him forever, she knew, but it would still be hard. Theon was a good friend, and she'd seen him every single day, aside from her trips to Riverrun or Highgarden, since she was a girl. It would be a tough to be parted from him.

Or perhaps it was not her brotherly love for Theon that wearied her, but the fact that she was being pulled from her home. This was my choice, she reminded herself quickly. I wanted this.

They began walking again then, and reached Bran's chamber all too soon. Lyla looked to Theon and he smiled reassuringly before she stepped inside.

The atmosphere was thick and smelled faintly of mildew, and the floorboards creaked under her feet as she went to her little brother's bedside. "Hello Bran," she whispered, her voice cracking more than she was expecting. "I'm going to King's Landing with Sansa and Arya, you know. I'm going to come back and see you as soon as I can, I promise."

She ran her left hand through his thick hair and felt tears prickling in her eyes. It didn't seem so long ago that she was helping him practice his swordsman skills, telling him he was kind and brave and would be a great warrior one day. "I'll miss you so much, Bran… I'm so sorry that I haven't visited more, I know I should have but…"

Tears were falling then and she kissed her brother's brow. "I'll come see you as soon as you wake up." It was hard for her, talking to him without him answering. "I'll bring you presents and a sword and…" She heard a floorboard creak and looked up.

Her mother had changed into a soft green dress with long sleeves and a loose skirt. Blood red curls spiraled all around her shoulders to her elbows and she looked to have bathed. "So it's true," Lady Catelyn whispered, staring at the sling around her arm that was still much too tight.

"It's nothing really, only a scratch." Lyla gave her mother a weak smile and winced in pain when Bran's direwolf, who had been sitting loyally at his owner's side, nudged it with curiosity.

Lady Catelyn stepped closer to her and frowned. "You're leaving today." When Lyla said nothing, only nodded, she continued. "I know you're marrying the Kingslayer."

Lyla raised a brow. "Father told you?"

"No, I saw you yesterday from the window." Oh. Lyla forgot that Bran and Arya's windows both faced the courtyard. "There's still time to back out, Lyla. You can still say no."

"I'm already packed. It's decided."

"I can find you a better husband. One that's honest and will be good to you. Theon is-"

"Mother, that match is impossible. I'm marrying Ser Jaime at the King's command."

There was an eerie silence before Lady Catelyn spoke again. "The Lannisters are not trustworthy. He broke his vows to protect the King…"

"Mother, if it were not Ser Jaime it would have been another." Lyla frowned at her mother's sudden ager.

Lady Catelyn was glaring at her then and growled, "I want you to leave."

And so she did, without a second thought.

The sun was fully in the sky by the time she and Theon came back from Bran's chamber to the main hall. It was much fuller and the royal table was packed with the queen, the royal children, and King Robert. Lancel gave Lyla a conspicuous glare until a hand reached her shoulder and he looked away.

"Shame he did not learn to respect you the first time I talked to him."

She did not have to turn her head to confirm who it was; she'd recognized his voice. "My mother found out about our betrothal," Lyla whispered to him as Theon growled and stalked away to join Robb and Jon. Rickon was being bounced on Septa's lap, but as soon as his eyes caught Lyla's he yipped in excitement and ran over to her. She smiled and winced when he jumped up on her, crying out in pain as he tried to climb onto her right arm.

Ser Jaime pulled Rickon from her, green eyes worried. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She sighed and Rickon looked up at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry Lya…" he muttered, burying his face in her skirts and hugging her legs.

Lyla kneeled down and did her best to pick him up with her left arm, allowing him a few moments to get comfortable on her hip with her arm around him after she straightened up. "It's alright, little wolf. You did not know."

"What did your mother have to say about our betrothal?" Ser Jaime asked as he led Lyla to a table that didn't have Starks, Lannisters, or Baratheons crowding it. Respectfully, he sat across from her, and Rickon slid into her lap as she sat, gobbling up milk as soon as they were seated.

Lyla shrugged, sipping some milk herself. "A lot."

"Lyla…"

"She said Lannisters are untrustworthy and begged me to find a way out of the betrothal before she commanded me to leave," Lyla replied before biting into a thick slice of honeyed bread. Her mother's words had stung her. I want you to leave, I want you to leave, I want you to leave. It kept replaying in her mind and she looked down, sighing. "She hates me."

Jaime reached his hand to her left forearm and shook his head. "Lyla, your mother doesn't hate you. She hates me probably, but not you. You're her daughter."

"She told me she'd rather I fell, not Bran."

He winced and she raised a brow. She'd only ever seen him wince when he was called Kingslayer. His hand retreated and Lyla cradled Rickon closer. "She's grieving for her son. My sister went through the same. She had a boy before- it was her first child. He looked just like Robert. Black hair and big blue eyes. He was strong, but too young to fight off the fever. Oh she cried and kicked and screamed, even Robert beat his hands bloody on the wall, but the boy…"

Lyla looked to where the queen sat and frowned. The poor queen. She didn't have love in her marriage, she lost her first child, and she looked so unhappy- not in the fake smile she pulled on her lips for the Princess Myrcella who asked her a question, but in her eyes. Jaime's exact color.

She turned to look at Jaime then and he looked more lost in thought than she'd ever seen. She couldn't help but think of what Sansa was talking about that morning, Oh he's so handsome Lyla, aren't you in the least bit excited? He was handsome, she had to admit. His golden hair waved slightly and his green eyes were like fields, but she didn't know if she was excited about the prospect of marrying him. She'd have to stay out of trouble and be a prim, proper young lady. Lyla was about to snap him out of his trance but the king's voice boomed over the hall.

"Alright, let's get riding before I piss myself!"

Queen Cersei rolled her eyes and ushered the princess and princes to the litter, Septa doing the same with Sansa and Arya. Lyla looked down at Rickon, who looked back up at her with a frown.

"Do you have to go now, Lya?"

She nodded and hugged him as tight as she could with her one free arm. "Yes, little wolf, I have to go now."

Rickon's eyes immediately filled with water and he clung to her as she stood. Robb made his way to her, Theon in tow, and he looked at her sadly, trying to pry their brother from her. "No, no, no!" Rickon cried, tears dribbling down his cheeks. "No!"

Quickly, Robb handed Rickon to Theon when he pulled him from Lyla and Greyjoy tried his best to hold him and carry him away. Rickon was relentlessly kicking and pounding his tiny pale fists on their father's ward's back though, crying for his sister.

Lyla could feel tears in her eyes too, and Robb rested a heavy hand on her left shoulder. "It's okay, Lyla. He'll stop eventually."

"I'm going to miss you so much," Lyla cried, hopping onto her brother, careful of her right arm, and wrapped her left arm around his neck. "I'll be lost without you."

Robb returned her embrace warmly and placed a brotherly kiss on her head before letting her down. "Next time I see you, you'll be Lady Lannister."

This was going to be the last time she would see her brother in who knew how long. She'd be living the rest of her life without him, though she'd spent the better half of it with him. Her laughter quickly turned to tears as her mind raced and Robb pulled her into another hug.

"It'll be alright, Ly. I'll write all the time. You're not losing me."

It almost sounded as though he were trying to convince himself and she nuzzled closer to his neck. "I know," she sniffled, pulling away and wiping her tears. Ser Jaime coughed and she looked up at him as he slid an arm around her shoulders.

"It's time to go."

Though Lyla had shrugged his arm from her shoulders, she didn't object to the feel of his fingers barely gracing her elbow. It was comforting, and she needed to be comforted.

The fresh air was crisp as they stepped outside, Lyla, Ser Jaime, and Robb, a light breeze dancing through the trees and shaking pine needles and leafs from them. Clouds hung wearily in the sky, covering the sun with a thick coat of grey.

Boxes of wine and their trunks were filling carts, and Lyla guess Sansa and Arya were already in the litter with the queen, since she hadn't seen them since the king announced they would be leaving. Ser Jaime excused himself to collect their horses and Robb went to find their sisters to say goodbye.

Goodbye. The word hung as heavily in the air as the clouds, and Lyla wished she didn't have to go all of a sudden. This was her home, Winterfell was her home, and she would hate any place that wasn't the North- Highgarden being the only exception. What if Lord Eddard was right and the southern men sneered at her? She scoffed at that thought though. She was a Stark of Winterfell, she didn't have the time to care what they thought of her. She had a duty to her father, to the King, to Ser Jaime. She needed to go.

"You're going to miss this place," came a deep voice behind her and she nodded.

"More than I thought possible. It's my home." Lyla turned and smiled when she saw Morrow, already tacked up, reins in Ser Jaime's hand.

He dropped the stallion's lead and put his hands on her waist, letting them linger for a moment before he hoisted her into the saddle. "I think you'll learn to love the South." Lyla shook her head, knowing she wouldn't, but he only smiled and slowly slipped his hands from her hips. "I could always make you love it."

"Ha," Lyla huffed dryly. He hopped onto his horse, an all-white mare with a long, lovely mane and armor that matched the golden set Ser Jaime wore that day. "You don't scare me, my lord."

Ser Jaime raised a brow and smirked. "I'm glad that you're not. How terrible a match it would be if you were."

"Aye, let's get a goddamn move on! Kingslayer, get your golden arse over here!" King Robert bellowed, trying to climb atop his black warhorse.

Lyla couldn't say it was unexpected that she wouldn't be riding with Ser Jaime, but she still sighed. Ser Jaime smiled at her though and patted her hand. "There will be days when we can ride together." She knew he was trying to make her smile and it worked.

"I'll be watching you," he told her before whipping his mare around and trotting to the king. Lord Eddard was with them and smiled to her solemnly before the king screamed that they were taking off.

The first steps away were easy, but the further they went, the harder it became to leave. While Lyla wasn't opposed to the opportunity, she had the gut wrenching feeling she wouldn't see Winterfell again for a long, long time. Morrow must have sensed it too, because without her order he stopped and whinnied at Winterfell's gates. Rose howled at the hooves of the stallion.

"Come on," she urged, but once they were outside the gates she felt a sort of warm protection slip from her.

She was going away, to marry of all things, and she wouldn't return home- not in years at least. She'd stepped over the boundary that was her childhood. She could hear Rickon crying for her in the courtyard where Robb held him and felt everyone's staring eyes on the back of her head, and as she galloped away and wind licked her skin, wrapped around her plaited hair, and eased the uncomfortable throbbing in her right arm. She could feel tears prickling in her eyes. When she looked to where Jon rode beside her for comfort, he smiled and nodded, and she nodded back. She was a Stark of Winterfell, not a little girl, and no matter if she was in the north or the south, winter was coming and she would be fine wherever she went.