Chapter 11: The Wolf Beneath
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The Red Keep now swarmed with people, lords, ladies, and otherwise. Servants bustled this way and that, the whole great castle full of noise. She loved watching them all, speaking with them, learning their stories. There was the baker who forever carted flour to and fro, the Stormguard who was always humming as he stood watch, the stableboys who were constantly practicing swordwork against each other with bits of wood. Even in this terrible city, there were many good people, and she tried to remember that.
"Do you know how much your mistake has cost me? I could have you hanged, if I liked. Do you know that?" A noblewoman built like a riding crop was towering over a cowering maid. It was not an uncommon scene, sadly, but Lyanna knew this noblewoman well. Selyse Florent, her fellow lady-in-waiting to Cersei. She ducked her head and walked up quietly behind Selyse.
"Headed to the garden?" Lyanna asked in a low tone.
"Ah!" Selyse started with surprise and whirled on Lyanna, the servant hastily curtsying and making her escape. "Lady Lyanna!" Selyse scolded. "You have scared me half to death!"
It took all of Lyanna's self control to resist smirking. Lyanna had always been short. The blood of the First Men was not the blood of giants. Selyse, meanwhile, was very nearly as tall as the King, towering over Lyanna by more than a foot, but still she reacted as if Lyanna were going to bite her. She contented herself by simply raising her eyebrow.. "You did not see because you did not look. You were not listening, either, else you would have heard me asked if you were headed to the garden."
"Yes, of course I am headed there, you know that." Selyse snapped waspishly. "Lord Mace and all the other Tyrells are already there."
Mace Tyrell had come to the Red Keep to visit his son. At least, that was the stated purpose, but Lyanna guessed that he also had some kind of scheme. It was the only reason to come to the city, really.
Selyse did not speak to her as they walked to the garden together. Lyanna did not complain of the silence.
The garden was a beautiful, if rather untidy affair. The King and Queen cared little enough for growing things, so the garden had never been set to rights, but still it was one of Lyanna's favorite places in the Red Keep. Beautiful harp music lilted over the castle walls. Likely Willas Tyrell, Lyanna thought.
"There you are! Sissy, come here!" The speaker was a slender blonde woman, who might have been called beautiful except for her spotty, pinched face.
Selyse's expression twisted angrily and she stalked over."Kyra, what are you shouting for?" She hissed at the shorter woman.
The blonde waggled her eyebrows. "Monford Velaryon came to court yesterday to speak with the Master of Ships."
Selyse drew back in shock. "Kyra Frey, you did not. Kyra, he is a Lord. You defile..."
Kyra only laughed. "Not Monford. His uncle. Ser Orys."
Selyse gasped. "Kyra!" She looked to the side anxiously before whispering. "Kyra, he is nearly fifty!"
"That just makes him experienced." Kyra stated nonchalantly. "And besides, for all your prudishness, I know that you've wondered what it would feel like to run you hands through that flowing white Valyrian hair, to feel that pale, smooth skin touching yours..."
"I do not." Selyse spat.
Kyra barked a laugh. "No, I suppose you just wonder at what it must be like to get fucked at all."
Lyanna let out a tiny breath. They could continue like this for hours. For all her protests, Selyse liked sharing company with Kyra, and Kyra enjoyed Selyse's company in return. They each made the other feel superior, and their daily strife was something precious to them. Lyanna looked around absently for a distraction.
The garden was filling with people slowly. Various administrators and lesser lords and knights. She spied what she assumed were the Tyrell party a little ways away, and more would be coming soon. After all, the Queen and likely the King would be here soon, and neither of those persons could go anywhere in the Red Keep without a dozen hangers-on attaching themselves. The Red Keep as a whole, was a great stinking carcass, every inhabitant trying to get its own cut of meat. She would have scorned them, except that she was one of them.
"Well, Lady Winter, do you agree?"
"What was the question?" Lyanna asked, her expression neutral.
Selyse leaned in like a great, hateful stork. "This one," Selyse spat, pointing at Kyra, "was insisting the most-"
"It feels better to fuck the haughty types." Kyra stated blandly. "The Velaryons can't exhale without telling you that they're of the blood of Old Valyria, but if they should condescend to dipping their wick they squeak and squeal like the rest of them."
"And you're asking me..." Lyanna raised an eyebrow.
"Well, do you agree?" Kyra asked, smiling. Lyanna sucked in a breath. They were bringing that up again. The women did, from time to time. Part of it was genuine curiosity, but the other half was her own fault. She did not like either of them, and so she stayed aloof. They did not like her haughtiness, and so they took every chance to bring her down to their level. She could ignore them for the most part, but with respect to Rhaegar... There were a thousand and one thoughts that crowded her mind all at once, filling her with guilt, shame, anger, pain. Rhaegar's smiling face flashed before her, then the face of him frowning determinedly. The Tower of Joy, he had called it, but once the joy was gone... She… She would not think those thoughts. Her face was flint and her eyes were ice. She was of the Old Blood and these southerners could do nothing to her.
She released the breath she had been holding, and made eye contact with Kyra. "I've always imagined that to lay with someone you loved would be best." She paused. "But if you're referring to Rhaegar, I cannot say that I thought much of our difference in rank. "
It was true enough. She had gone with Rhaegar willingly, at first, but his title had never meant much to her. Indeed, nothing about Rhaegar had meant that much to her, beyond the fact that he would have her. She had been determined to not be a maid when they sent her to Robert, that they might at least marry on equal terms. She had been furious that her father had cared nothing for her opinion and felt the need to exert her own will. She had been disgusted that her betrothed would call her "sweet" and had aimed to disabuse him of that notion. She had not run away for love, she had run away for thrice-damned foolish pride. She saw that now, for all the good it did her. The fool of a woman who had done those things had died in Dorne.
Lyanna felt a smile touch her lips. If that Lyanna had died in Dorne, was this her version of the seven hells?
Kyra scowled at her smile. "You call yourself a peer of a prince? Seven above, you're the haughtiest of them all."
"Both of you, stop this chatter!" Selyse insisted. "Some of us have reputations worth keeping."
"Oh I know I do." Kyra's eyes glittered. "You both disdain me, but I shall be the first to marry of us three, and you all know it. Selyse has the mind and body of a woman thrice her age, and I think Lyanna will find that men prefer women who have a pulse. You may disdain me, but I am like to marry better than you."
There was just enough of Lyanna's foolish younger self in Kyra to make the woman insufferable. She knew that she should say nothing. She should be above getting entangled with these two. But the words spilled out without her conscious thought. "Tell me, Kyra." Her voice was low and cutting. "Is House Frey a brothel, that its women boast of being used by lordly men?"
Kyra's face flushed hot, her eyes tightening even as she maintained her smile. She opened her mouth, but then Cersei was approaching and all eyes turned to her. The queen looked radiant as ever. She was beautiful, Lyanna knew, more beautiful than Lyanna herself or anyone else in the Seven Kingdoms. Yet today the Queen wore a sour expression that lended her an unpleasant air. She often wore that expression, these days.
Lyanna curtsied with the others as Cersei approached. The Queen forced a smile and nodded at them. "At least the bard I brought in seems to be somewhat passable." Cersei remarked after minor pleasantries had been exchanged. "Come on then, let us go over and make Willas introduce us."
As they walked over, young Willas Tyrell stood and walked over to them, smiling kindly. Lyanna allowed a small smile of her own to appear in response. Willas was a tall, good-looking young man, with long dark hair and the body of a man training for war. He was a few years Lyanna's junior, but he had the manners and mind of a man twice his age and she always appreciated his company.
He was accompanied by a great overfilled wineskin of a man that had to be Lord Mace Tyrell, and an older woman who was as sharp as Mace was dull. There were a dozen other courtiers around them. Royce, Florent, Morrow, Massey, Krats… She knew all their names, but she paid them little enough mind. Along with everyone else, her eyes were on the Tyrells and upon the Queen.
Willas bowed. "Ah, my Queen, you do us honor. This is my father, Lord Mace Tyrell, and my grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell." The Queen of Thorns, that was her other name, though she was no rose at all. "Lord Father, I am sure you recognize our fair queen, Cersei Baratheon?"
Cersei's calm smile that did not reach her eyes. "We are happy that you have come to meet us here. I see that many introductions have already been made. These with me are the Ladies Lyanna Stark, Kyra Frey, and of course Selyse Florent, who you already know. " Lyanna did not need to look to know exactly the sort of expression Selyse and Kyra were wearing at the moment. Selyse would be preening at the compliment, while Kyra's hateful eyes would betray her as she smiled at Willas. The young man had spurned her advances, and she did not take such a slight lightly.
For her part, Lyanna did not make any expression at all, giving Willas a simple nod after she had finished curtsying. The conversation turned to silly, pointless things after that. Cersei had brought some renowned bard into the garden. They listened to the music, made light conversation. Food was brought out to them, then they prepared to walk about the garden.
Lyanna stood up abruptly, happy to be allowed to move again. All she did these days was sit. To think that she had once complained when she had not been allowed to wear her sword about Winterfell. Now even a simple walk seemed like release.
"Hold a moment, Lady Lyanna," Willas interrupted. "I would ask that you do not leave with the rest." He smiled as though apologizing. "For some time I've admired that great white gyrfalcon in the Mews by the godswood, I was amazed to hear it was yours."
Lyanna moved to reply, but Cersei spoke over her. "You should not underestimate her, Willas, our Winter Lady is quite a wild creature." That earned a pleasant laugh from the assembled party.
Willas laughed along good-naturedly. "Indeed," he said. "A still lake hides many depths. But what of it, Lady Lyanna? If you are amiable, I would speak of hawking with you, and what better time than when the others are taking their walk? Someone must sit here with my grandmother, and why should it not be us? Our talk of hawking would bore these others to tears."
She nodded. Kyra and Selyse had been especially on edge today. Had something happened? No matter. "I should be happy to speak with you." She paused. "Unless, my queen, you have need of me?"
Cersei forced another smile. "No, indeed not. Indeed, I am glad Willas thought of it. The Tyrells are our guests after all, and it is our duty to entertain them." Lyanna blinked at that. A year ago Cersei would not have been so polite or tactful. The cat was learning, it seemed. Lyanna wondered if that was a good thing.
She sat as the majority of the party left them, leaving just Olenna and Willas and herself. Lyanna let herself relax somewhat, smiling a little and raising an eyebrow at Willas. "So, what is this? I've had Brighteyes for nearly a year. If you had wanted to ask me, you could have done so any time."
Willas smiled. "Perhaps I was nervous? A fine bird can intimidate a man."
"And which fine bird was it that intimidated you?"
Why, the gyrfalcon." Willas' feigned confusion turned to false realization. "Lady Lyanna! Surely you do not think I am so uncouth?"
"A shame you are not. I rather like the idea of being compared to a falcon."
"It's certainly worked well enough for the Arryns for the last few thousand years." Olenna commented, her hands folded in her lap. "The boy does want to talk hawking with you, make no mistake, but a man can have more than one reason for a thing."
"Indeed." Willas leaned in, his elbows on his knees. The young man's eyes were now deadly serious. "I have invited the king to go on a short hawking trip, only a few weeks into the Kingswood, and if you would be interested, I would be happy for you to come as well. It won't be a massive affair, just three weeks and a dozen lords and ladies." He paused. "I understand you would have to get leave from the Queen."
"Has the King actually agreed to this?"
"He's a damned fool if he doesn't." Olenna stated, causing Willas and Lyanna both to straighten. "What, can't a king be a fool like any other man?" The old woman shook her head. "I've lived through four kings, and they were all fools at times. Some more than others. But this hawking trip is the kind of thing a young king needs to be doing most of all. Everyone says the King is just and fair and those are good things, but justice alone never kept a realm together."
Willas coughed. "Lady Lyanna, out of respect for you, I wish to be frank: my grandmother and I are concerned about the state of the realm. Our family was never going to be a favorite in Stannis' court. We always knew that. We picked the wrong side in the war, and the King has reason to hold a grudge against us."
Lyanna did not comment. The King collected grudges like some men collected books. His library included grudges for or against most of the lords of the realm. He had reasons, no doubt. Stannis always had reasons, but that did little to set her at ease.
"I want to change that." Willas continued, his voice low. "The Reach has always been a hotbed of sedition, and only the Iron Throne has allowed for it to know peace for so long. Stannis' dynasty is young, and if it is to prosper, I am convinced he needs to know that we support him."
"Trust is earned." Lyanna stated. "You won't gain that through a party."
"A man can't earn the trust of a man who doesn't even know him."
"This is why Mace came to King's Landing? To arrange a hawking trip?" A nervous glance passed between Willas and his grandmother. "This isn't Mace's plan, is it?"
"Not precisely." Willas coughed. "Father has some design of arranging a marriage to the Iron Throne. One of his cousins to the King's younger brother."
"He'd sooner marry Renly to a Florent."
Willas winced. "I know Hawking trip has nothing to do with it. The Hand and I have been speaking about the need for more… relaxed interactions with the King for some time now. The only reason you're hearing about it now is that my grandmother thought that we should invite you."
Lyanna suppressed a frown. Why would the Hand be talking over such a matter with one of the king's own subjects? She had known that Lord Arryn and the King had been arguing, but to go behind his back? "So, what then, you are plotting with the Hand to help the King make friends?"
"Well," Willas frowned. "Yes."
"And these people you have gathered. Who are they?"
"A mix. Some from houses that could be made into loyal supporters of the throne. Some from houses that are already supporters of the throne."
"And which are you?"
"Neither. I'm a hostage. But perhaps that could be changed."
"Because Stannis does not take hostages from his loyal supporters?" Just a hint of bitterness entered her voice. More than she had intended.
"You're no hostage." Olenna tutted. "You're a soft-hearted girl who's attached to a bastard. Your family would be better off if you forgot the boy existed and went back to Winterfell."
"The boy is my family." Lyanna said, her voice sinking low.
"If you say so, then it is so," Olenna replied, seemingly unconscious of the offense she'd offered. "But while you're here, you might as well make use of your time. I wonder if you're aware that people view you as your Lord brother's agent here in the south? If the word my grandson brings me is true, you've spent two years here in the heart of the seven kingdoms doing nothing at all."
"I am not my brother." Lyanna was surprised by the venom with which she said it. "I act only for myself. Although where southern entanglements are concerned, we are united. Neither of us want anything to do with them, beyond our loyalty to the King."
Willas frowned. "So you are not coming, then?"
Was she not? In truth, the trip sounded like the sort of thing she might have done in her youth. To be free of the stink of the city, to be away from the Queen and her people… she would like that. But to be away from Jon? It would only be a few weeks. Cersei had left her little Cyrenna alone for four times that. Elia, the nurses, and everyone else would manage Jon well enough. He was a well-behaved lad. Even when Lyanna was gone, he would not cry, she knew that much.
And then, there was the purpose of the hunt. Perhaps she could speak with the King, make him reconsider his ruling. It would be dangerous, but perhaps… perhaps...
"I suppose I will come." She allowed. "But mostly for the hawking."
The day went on from there. She and Willas talked happily of falcons for some time. Cersei and the others returned. Cersei trotted out her little princess for everyone to see. When Lyanna returned to the Maidenvault, the hour was late and she was tired. Richard Horpe was on duty then, impatiently pacing back and forth like a caged rat. She gave him a curt nod and went to her family's chambers, tossing open the door.
"One of those days again?" Lyanna turned, and saw Elia Martell, sitting in an alcove with a book in one hand and a wineglass in the other. Little Jon was asleep with his head on her lap. At the foot of the couch was a massive bouquet of flowers.
Lyanna let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "You know the answer, otherwise you wouldn't have asked." She gestured to Jon's sleeping form. "He insisted on staying up again?"
Elia hummed affirmatively. "I was reading to him, but alas, it seems as though Natural History is not of much interest to him." She sipped her wine, nodding to the flowers. "Your lover sent another gift for you. Flowers, this time."
Lyanna sighed. "What am I going to do with him?"
"Marry him, I imagine. He'll wear you down eventually."
"I'm not interested in marrying."
"Jon won't be a babe forever. I doubt you plan on following him to the Wall?"
They had had this conversation a hundred times. Wendel Manderly was a fine enough man, she supposed, but he was fat and uncouth and cared only for feasting and fighting. His attentions were gratifying, but she had little interest in a man who only courted her at his father's request.
Lyanna sat down and ran a hand through her hair. "Elia, I tell you, Kyra and Selyse are getting worse by the day."
Elia sipped her wine. "Oh dear, that sounds terrible." She set down her book and wine and leaned in. "You must tell me all about it."
