They arrived at a small camp after riding well into the night. Lyanna had spent the entirety of it pressed tightly against the prince. Some small part of her had protested, the way he had taken her, hauled her from her mount as if she were some helpless little waif. Some small part had railed against such presumption towards her person.
Perhaps it was exhaustion that kept her from objecting. The day had been long and it had been a trial to get there. She almost had not been able to make the journey on her own, her father having second thoughts. Ben had suggested that perhaps he could accompany her causing her to snap at him that she was a woman now did not want him constantly on her heels any time she went anywhere. She had regretted that almost immediately. Ben had been stung by her words. Lyanna decided he would be the first she wrote too once she was with the prince. But it had also worked because her father relented, agreeing that she was indeed a woman, soon to head her own house and therefore should get used to this sort of responsibility. It pained her to deceive her family so.
She spent most of the journey riding her own mount rather than in the fine wagon maester Walys insisted she ride in. He had convinced her father that she should have a caravan befitting her station as a true lady of the North. When the day of her departure came and she rode out on her own mount her father had simply raised an eyebrow at her. When maester Walys put forth the question as to whether there was something wrong with the caravan that had been provided for her to travel in, Lyanna replied,
"You agreed that the caravan should make the journey maester Walys, but I never agreed to ride in it."
When the maester looked to her father, Lyanna expected him to deliver a stern reprimand and then carry her into the wagon himself. But instead he smiled and gave the maester a shrug of his great shoulders and said, "Spoken like a true lady of the North." He then walked over to where Lyanna sat atop her horse and whispered, "Try not to vex your captors too much."
And for a moment, for a brief moment, Lyanna faltered. Her father's gaze held nothing but pride and trust. A most undeserving trust. The swell of emotion almost overtook her and she struggled to keep her head afloat.
She had sent ravens while she traveled on the road, keeping them abreast of her progress. And when the day finally came, she found herself spending most of it trying to confuse her father's bannermen. She had to work at gaining distance from them as there seemed to be one or two in their number who were somewhat accustomed to her tricks. Back and forth along both on and off the road went, even reaching the crossroads and sending the men to find her a suitable offering for the Isle, and then taking off once more, leaving her escort scrambling. She had ended up riding harder and longer than she had originally intended, pushing her own mount too far, till he frothed at the bit and his neck was coated in sweat. Still they were behind her. Far too close.
It was not till she had crested that first hill, when she saw him in the far distance standing in the fading glow of the sun, that she had found her resolve. She could not make out his face from where she had been but she knew every detail of it. He had not moved at first, perhaps he had been stunned himself, but he was alongside of her soon enough. It was when she saw him again that she remembered, feelings that had been dormant flared once more. The excitement, the longing, the insecurities.
She had been running on adrenaline and sheer will. Running on the anger at what was expected of her, the bitterness at being powerless to stop it, and the anticipation of being with the only man she would ever love. Damn the cost. Any price would be worth paying to be here, with him, free.
At some point she had thought she heard him call out her name but she never turned. Instead she gripped the reigns tighter, pushed the stallion harder. She could not stop now, there was no time, she had to keep going.
He had reached for her and pulled her from her mount and she was content to let him do it. She had held herself to him and allowed him to cradle her. She buried her face against his chest. He smelled like salt and stone, like the sea before a storm. She looked up and could see the light flutter of pulse in his throat that beat the same steady rhythm she could feel in his chest. His arm gripped around her tight and held her close. She remained awake as they continued on. He would occasionally call out to one of the men with him, who would then break off and return after a short time. They never stopped moving though. How far they had gone or where they were was beyond her at this point. She only knew that they never stopped moving till they reached the camp.
It was not till they finally came to a stop and the prince dismounted before her that she realized that she had never once looked away from that fluttering spot on his throat. She blinked as she looked around, seeing her surroundings for the first time.
It was dark but Lyanna knew they were in some sort of a small clearing within a dense pocket of trees. Somewhere in the darkness she could hear the soft babble of a stream and the occasional nicker and snort from the horses. Although she could not tell in the dark, she felt that they must be a good distance from any road or village. A tent was raised in the middle of the camp and a small fire was going. It reminded her of the camps she, Ned, and Ben would make when they went hunting.
"Lyanna …"
A voice called to her softly and she half expected to look down to see Ned before her. Eyes of a color so striking peered up at her in the dark and she remembered it could not be Ned. Ned was not here. She looked at the face that held those eyes, far too beautiful to be any relation of hers. He held his arms out towards her, gently taking her about her waist to help her down.
I can do it myself, she thought in protest, but she found herself unable to form the words as he set her down upon the ground. He placed his arm around her and she felt herself being led towards the tent in the middle of the camp.
The inside of the tent was modestly arranged. Candles bathed the interior in a warm glow. A small table with two short stools sat off to the side and a pallet that was raised slightly off the ground was towards the back with a trunk on the opposite side. Lyanna took in her surroundings as if in a trance. She stood in the center of the tent, a strange numb feeling coming over her. Somewhere in her peripheral, Rhaegar moved around the tent. It seemed to her that he was speaking, something about needing to ride back out, about scouting and returning soon. That someone would see to her needs. At some point he stood before her and she was staring up into those eyes again. Those eyes she had desired for so long to see. Her heart began to flutter and she felt as if she were starting to wake. But then he pressed his lips to her forehead and walked away and out of the tent and Lyanna was left standing alone.
~oOo~
Rhaegar's fingers tapped impatiently atop the pommel of his saddle as his great black warhorse stomped readily on to the ground in response to his master's feelings. Rheagar let out a slow breath and soothed the stallion with a pat on the side of its neck. He needed to calm himself. He would see her again soon enough. Indeed, they would soon have their whole lives together. He could wait a moment longer.
It had been what felt like an eternity since he had last held her in his arms. It was as if some part of him that had been lost was found once more and he was now complete. He found himself reluctant to let her go for fear he would wake from a dream. It tore at his heart to leave her upon arriving to the camp. But there was still tasks to be done. They had left much later than anticipated and would now have to push harder on the morrow. Myles and Robert had already rode ahead to raise the next preselected camp site. They had set traps before leaving so that they could have provisions tonight. He had instructed Arthur to make sure there were no signs of the camp or their path to it and to remain close to Lyanna. He would have preferred to remain himself but his friends had already put their own lives and reputations on the line to aid him in this undertaking, he did not wish to give them any more undue stress with menial tasks.
He had the tent prepared with fresh clothes and linens for her. He had told her that water would be brought if she wished it and food as well. He had babbled an apology about the sparse surroundings and rambled about how he would find anything she needed. He had sounded like some daft fool the way he went on. He finally stopped talking and just stared at her, overwhelmed with joy at having her here with him and bitterness at having to leave for even a moment. But that would all change soon.
She was here, with him, in his arms again. And this time forever. There would never be a need to be parted from her again.
A low whistle pulled his attention back to the dark of the tree line before him. He answered it with a whistle of his own and watched as Oswell emerged like a ghost in the dark.
"She was followed but I don't think they got very far after we cleared the godseye. Especially if their horses where in a similar condition to hers when she got to us."
Rhaegar nodded. "Tracks?"
"I've cleared any trace of us,"Oswell spoke as he mounted his own horse, "and laid false trails. Enough to confuse them anyway."
Rhaegar turned his horse and began the careful and agonizingly slow pace back.
It was in the very late hours of night, or perhaps the wee hours of the morning depending on how you looked at it, when they finally arrived back at the encampment. The fire was very low but Rhaegar could make out Arthur in the shadows. Another ghost in the darkness. He walked over and met them as they dismounted and began to remove their saddles and bridles.
"Any tagalongs," Arthur asked as began to attach a feed bag to the horse's harnesses.
"None," Oswell answered as he set down the saddle.
"Tracks?"
"Taken care of," came Oswell's deceptively calm reply.
"And you covered your return yes?"
"Are you trying to piss me off," Oswell peered over his horse at Arthur.
"I was just wondering if I should set up a perimeter," Arthur blinked innocently, "since I could hear you lumbering through the woods a good league away."
"Gods you nag like my mother. Did you manage to get off your ass and fix anything from those traps?
"There might be a bit left for you," Arthur shrugged, "a few bones to pick."
Oswell muttered a few choice curses at Arthur but Rhaegar did not hear them. They were faint noises in the back ground as he hurried through his final tasks of the night. His eyes kept darting to the tent in the center of the camp, noticing the faint glow that came from within. Perhaps she was still awake. Perhaps she had waiting up for him. He brushed the hind quarters of his horse briskly, causing the stallion to give an annoyed snort. A hand upon his brought him to a halt.
"I have this your grace," Arthur said as he took the brush from his hand.
"Ah, yes thank you." Rhaegar stepped back. "What of –"
"We will take care of it your grace," Arthur assured.
"Yes good, well … If you … if there is … I will just … in a moment." Rhaegar stammered at the two men as he backed up slowly towards the center of the camp before just turning around and hurrying towards the tent. Upon reaching it he pushed the flap back and stepped inside.
The inside was largely undisturbed since he had left Lyanna in here but for the tent was now dimly lit by a single lone candle on the table. The linens on the cot lay untouched, all still neatly folded and in place. If it had not been for her cloak discarded in the corner one would not have known anyone had been here at all.
But Rhaegar did know better. A knew feeling began to come over him, slowly extinguishing the excitement that had been building throughout the night. A horrible creeping feeling that wormed him with dread and fear.
"Lyanna," his voice quavered softly. Was she gone? Was she taken while they were unware?
"Lyanna," he called again simulatiouly squashing the urge to panic. They were not followed. They could not have been followed. They had been too careful, everything meticulously planned. A noise from the far corner of the tent pulled his attention. He turned to see what he had previously thought was a discarded cloak. But upon further inspection saw that it had not been simply discarded absently in the corner. In fact, it had not been discarded at all. She was still wearing it.
Lyanna sat curled up in the corner of the tent, her knees drawn up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, her head buried in her arms, crying.
Rhaegar rushed across the tent and knelt before her.
"Lyanna? What is it? What is wrong? Are you hurt?"
He silently cursed himself for his thoughtlessness. He should have seen if she had been injured or had some pain after a long day of hard riding that went well in to the night. Of course there would be some discomfort.
But the only answer that came from Lyanna was the soft sound of her muffled sobs.
Rhaegar looked her over from where she sat and did not believe she had suffered some sort of injury. At least none that he could see for her face remained buried, her only movement was the small jerking motion of her shoulders. If she was not hurt then what could it be? The soft whispery fingers of doubt began to once again pick at his mind.
She is regretting her decision, he thought. She does not want to be here, not with me. I am a fool. A selfish blind fool. A fool who stole some girl away from her home and for what? Because I couldn't live without her? Because of some ridiculous dream? Because I couldn't stand the thought of her in another man's arms? She wishes to leave me, and I deserve to be miserable and alone.
"Lyanna," his voiced came out a rasp, every word painful, "Lyanna … do you … regret … if you are unhappy, if you have … if you wish to go home, you have but to say it … and I will return you." Rhaegar squeezed his eyes shut as every word ripped apart his being. Would he? Would he be able too? If she wished it he would let her go, even though he would succumb to the grief and withdraw from the world. Would this be the beginning of his own madness he wondered.
"Lyanna," he forced himself to speak once more, "do you wish to go?"
When she did not speak he opened his eyes to see her looking at him. Her own beautiful grey eyes red rimmed and wet with tears, her beautiful face flush from crying, he thought his heart may break.
"No," she gasped between breaths.
"No," she repeated as she fell over into his arms, pressing her face into his neck so he could feel the fresh tears that began to fall.
"No," came her muffled voice between her soft sobs against his skin as his own arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Never," was her answer as he held her on the floor of the tent as she wept and wave after joyous wave of relief came over him.
Rhaegar had never been so confused in his life.
He could not say how long he sat on the floor of that tent holding her until his arms and legs screamed in protest. He held her till the ragged pattern of her breathing steadied and slowed to the gentle rhythm of sleep. He had lifted her up at that point and lay her in on the pallet so that she could rest. He then stepped outside.
He blinked as he stepped out of the tent. The air was cool and damp against his pounding head and the sky had taken on the wet slate grey colors of morning. First light had not yet broke but there was enough light for Rhaegar to see the camp Arthur and Oswell had already prepped for their departure at first light and now sat around a small fire as they waited. Rhaegar walked over to where they sat and lowered himself down next to them.
Oswell and Arthur simply glanced at each other. Arthur put a few items on small plate and offered it to Rhaegar. Rhaegar took the plate from Arthur and stared at it.
Oswell spared another glance at Arthur who looked at Rhaegar with concern.
"Your grace …" Arthur let the question hang in the air.
"She was crying," Rhaegar finally said, still looking at his plate puzzled.
Arthur and Oswell looked at each other.
"Your grace?"
"Crying," Rhaegar repeated. "I went to the tent, last night, and she was sitting … crying."
"Was she hurt?" Arthur asked.
"No."
"Perhaps frightened," Arthur offered.
Rhaegar smiled slightly. "Nothing frightens her," he said softly.
Arthur hesitated. "Does she wish to go home?" he finally asked.
"No. At least, she said no but … I am not certain."
Oswell gave a low chuckle from the other side of the fire. "Gods. I keep forgetting just how bloody awful the two of you are when it comes to women, much less people," he mused.
"And I suppose you are," Arthur said somewhat incredulously.
"Yes actually, in this instance I believe I am." Oswell gave them an amused look and shook his head. "You two gits are too far south to know anything, but me, well it just so happens that being from the Riverlands gets me privy to a few things. Specifically the North." Arthur and Rhaegar continued to just look at him. Oswell shook his head. "They rarely ever leave. Northerners. They hardly ever leave their mountains or castles or caves or whatever the fuck it is that they live in. They hate people coming into it just as much, but the fact is they hate leaving it more. They hardly ever leave. They think bad things happen to Northerners who go south. Walter has been doing trade with them for years and to get them to come down past the Twins is like pulling teeth." Oswell looked at the other two.
"And ..." Arthur prompted.
"And," Oswell continued somewhat exacerbated, "you have a young northern woman here who has just left everything she has ever known. The only home she's ever known, the only family, the only land and people. She more than likely won't ever see them again, at least not anytime soon. And if she does, I can't imagine it will be that pleasant, what with how she left. The north remembers isn't just a saying up there." Oswell stood up and began to kick dirt over the fire. "She's sacrificing more than we know."
"Thank you for that most illuminating civics lesson Oswell," Arthur said dryly.
Oswell simply shrugged. "It's probably best that what she's done is hitting her now rather than later."
"Oswell –," Arthur began only to be interrupted by Rhaegar.
"No Arthur, he is right. Oswell is right. We will let her rest for now."
"Are you sure that –"
"Just for a moment Arthur, not long. Just a moment."
"That won't be necessary."
All three men turned to see Lyanna standing a short distance behind them. Arthur and Rhaegar jumped to their feet while Oswell took an almost cautionary step back. The three men cast guilty looks between each other, wondering just how much she had heard.
Lyanna for her part stood silent before them. She gave Arthur and Oswell a quick run over before looking at Rhaegar.
"I am ready when you are your grace."
