At the King's feast, Lyvia and Mandy sat in the corner nearest to Arya as she played with her food. Mandy stared dreamily at Sandor Clegane, who sat nearest to a blond boy with green eyes. She sighed deeply as she watched the disfigured man down one cup of wine after another. "Isn't he wonderful?" she asked Lyvia in a whisper.

Lyvia shrugged as she watched the King, who seemed disinterested in feasting with his wife, but rather telling boisterous tales amongst his men, while also enjoying the company of other women. She glanced up at the Queen's sad and disappointed face, though she wore a mask to hide her emotions. Shaking her head, her eyes kept watch on the fat man in the crown as he drowned himself in wine and women.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Jory whispered into her ear. He was already holding her black cloak in his arms when she glanced up at his hopeful face.

She stood from the table and whispered into Mandy's ear, "Remember to behave."

Mandy rolled her eyes and nodded.

Jory hung her cloak over her shoulders gently and produced an arm for her to take as he led her through the Great Hall. His face beamed as they walked through the crowd, ignoring the sounds around them until they heard the thunderous roar of the King.

"Lyanna?" He dropped his goblet and stared at her as if he had seen a ghost. His face turned white and the Great Hall became silent as the grave as all eyes fell upon her.

She gripped Jory's arm tightly with her hand as the King stood from his seat and her eyes met his. She felt Jory use his free hand to reassure her with a gentle stroke on her fingers. Her heart raced and she was sure everyone could hear how loudly it was beating. Perhaps it was the King's heavy footsteps that thundered in her ears as he took short strides towards her.

Jory knelt down before the King and pulled her down beside him.

She lowered her head and could only see his shiny black leather boots as they stood before her. She closed her eyes and wished this was just a dream and she would soon wake up from this nightmare. But the Great Hall soon filled with gasps as she heard a groan and felt callused fingers on her chin.

"Lyanna," the King whispered as he lifted her head.

She opened her eyes to see the King kneeling before her. "No, Your Grace," she said in a quiet voice. "I am not."

"No… you are," he insisted. "You are my Lyanna…"

"I'm afraid Your Grace is mistaken… I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I am not who you seek," she shook her head but it only seemed to make him more insistent.

He staggered to his feet, his face red from the strain of stooping with his fat belly. "Get up," he commanded.

Lyvia and Jory rose to their feet.

"You are Ser Jory Cassel, Ned's captain of the guard," the King glared at him with cold eyes. He glanced down at their connection and then back up to his face. "And your relationship with this young woman?"

Jory released her hand and her arm dropped to her side. "We are friends, Your Grace," he said.

Lyvia glanced at Jory, who took a deep breath as he spoke. Her eyes darted around the room as everyone continued to stare and study her. Lady Stark looked horrified, while the Queen's eyes stabbed her through the heart.

"My King," Lord Stark finally interrupted.

"Ned… have you been hiding her all these years?" He pointed at Lyvia drunkenly. "How could you not tell me? And you had me go down into the crypts to pay my respects!"

"This is not Lyanna, Robert," he said in a low voice. "Jory, take her out of here." Lord Stark looked disappointed as he turned back to the King and braced his hands on the King's shoulders. "Listen to me, my friend, she is not Lyanna. Lyanna passed away years ago."

The King shook his head and roared, "Bring her back!"

Jory used his hands to guide her shoulders through the crowd and out into the courtyard. He glanced behind him often as he led her into the godswood to hide until the situation settled.

"I didn't like the way he looked at me," Lyvia said, trembling by the weirwood. "I don't look like her. Why does everyone think I look like her?"

Jory turned her around and tightened the cloak around her neck. "Lord Stark will bring some sense to him. Don't worry, Lyvia. Everything will be fine."

"My sweet protector," she said in a whisper. "You're always there to help me." Her hand found its way to his chest, where it rested against his heart. She stared at her fingers as they trembled against the leather doublet that hugged his lean body.

His hands steadied her palm against his chest, pressing her fingers hard against his heart. "The snow will fall and winter will come, but the fire will never die," he muttered in a low voice.

"You're speaking in riddles," she groaned as she lifted her eyes up to his face.

His lips widened into a smile and he took one step closer to her.

"Jory," she shook her head. She closed her eyes and dropped her head as if she was going to cry. Before she could move, his arms wrapped around her and he drew her into a tight, comforting embrace. "I want to go home," she sobbed.

"You're safe here," he whispered as he pressed his whiskered chin against her forehead. "No one will harm you."

"I'm afraid of him," she said. "The way he looked at me… it wasn't human."

"Who?"

"The King," she replied. "What if he… what if he wants to see me?"

"Lord Stark won't allow anything to happen to you," Jory stroked her hair gently.

"But he's the King. The King gets what he wants…" She suddenly pushed away from him and looked into his face with watery eyes. "You know that. If he wants something, Lord Stark cannot deny him." She shook her head. "What if he wants to see me privately?"

Jory hushed her and held her close to him. "Lord Stark will do what's right. Have faith in him. He's a very honorable man."

She nodded. "I know he is."

He pressed his forehead against hers and sighed deeply. "Lyvia…"

Her eyes found his gaze and she pressed her fingers against his lips. "Don't," she whispered. She fought the urge to just fall into his arms and kiss him, but she knew that this relationship wouldn't last. She already knew what was going to happen to him in King's Landing and she couldn't bear the heartbreak.

His eyes saddened and he drew in a deep breath which he let out as a disappointed sigh.

"Don't do that," she said as his arms tightened around her.

"What am I doing?"

"You're looking at me as though I'd just killed Nymeria," she said.

'"I didn't mean to make you feel that way," he said. "I want you to feel safe."

"He'll find me," she said in a quiet, quivering voice.

"You're safe here." He released her as she backed away from him and stopped against the weirwood. His eyes stared at her as she slid down to her knees and sat by the trunk. "Tell me how I can comfort you… show me," he pleaded. He dropped to his knees beside her and leaned against the white wood. His arms opened wide and he invited her to shelter against him from the cold.

Lyvia couldn't move at first. Her eyes stared at his outstretched arms for what felt like hours, but she soon scooted closer to him and curled up against his chest. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

"There's nothing to do," he replied. "Everything will be fine."

She sat up suddenly and stared into his eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Because I have faith that it will be…" He gave her a kind smile and brushed away strands of brown hair from her face. He leaned towards her, holding her face within the palm of his hand.

"Captain!" one of the guards interrupted him.

Jory sighed and shook his head. "What is it?" he turned his head towards the man, who stood by the entrance with a red face.

"I beg your pardon, Captain," he said. "But there's something you must come and see."

"Duty calls," Lyvia whispered into his ear before giving him a quick peck on his cheek. Her lips widened into a grin when she saw his surprised expression. She stood up and dusted her skirt off as Jory rose to his feet.

"I'll be along in a moment," he told the guard, who nodded and left the godswood. "I shall escort you to your room first." He turned back to Lyvia and offered her his arm.

"I can find my way," she said. "You should go and find out what's happened."

He stood still and stared at her, his arm jutting out at an awkward angle. He remained silent until she conceded with a roll of her eyes and placed her fingers on his wing. With his free hand, he pressed his palm against the curve of her fingers.

He led her through the courtyard and into the Great Keep. When they reached her chambers, he opened the door for her and poked his head inside just to ensure she would be alone.

"Thank you," she said, entering the little room. When she spun around, he was just inside the doorway, watching her every move. Her hands unfastened her cloak from her shoulders and draped it on a chair by the window. "You should be getting back," she told him.

He nodded. Backing out of the room without turning his back to her, he pulled the door closed as he said, "Sweet dreams."

As the door finally closed, she rushed to it as if she meant to stop him, but was too late. Her hand gripped the handle to the door and for a moment, she thought about turning it and flinging the wooden door back towards her to see if he was still in the hallway. But as her fingers tightened around the iron and her knuckles grew white, she convinced herself that it was a bad idea. She knocked her head into the wood and sighed.

"Did you want to come out?" Jory's voice spoke through the wood.

She pulled the door open and found him leaning on the doorframe with his hand bracing the wall. "I thought you'd left already," she said weakly.

"I was about to when I heard your knocking." His eyes focused on the red patch of skin on her forehead and his brows furrowed. "Were you knocking with your head?" His hand automatically reached out to comfort her.

"It's nothing," she said, dodging his fingers. "You need to go. They're waiting for you."

"I will return when I've finished," he told her.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm going to sleep."

He frowned. "Very well. Good night."

"Good night," she replied and closed the door. She pressed her ear to the wood and listened as Jory walked away finally after standing still for about a minute. Glancing around the dimly lit room, she found a few more candles that were yet to be lit and placed them on the table by the window. Peering down into the darkness, the torchlight faintly lit the courtyard and the Stark guards stood in a group by the guesthouse. Jory strode out from beneath her window and joined them.

She leaned on the window and couldn't help but stare down at the shadows in the courtyard. Her lips let out a deep sigh as her eyes focused on the one that looked like Jory from where she stood. For all she knew, it could have been one of his men, but her intentions were true. Her lips pressed together when they backed away slowly from another group of men, who were carrying torches. She couldn't hear what they were saying but from what she could tell, it looked heated as they all had their hands on the grips of their swords, ready for to draw and attack.

Then a voice echoed from below in a strong, feminine tone, "I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of old Valyria. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming. I will take what is mine, with fire and blood."

"Oh shit…" Lyvia spat as she grabbed her cloak and ran out of her room.