"I've come too far South, Lyanna, I tell you," Wendel's fat face dripped with sweat, trickling down from his broad hat all the way down to his double chin. "This heat will kill me where I stand if I do not find any shade."

Wendel and Lyanna were walking through an open field in the Kingswood near where the hawking party was practicing. A simple hawking trip became a massive affair for the kingdom when Stannis was involved. Servants, Stormguard, tradesmen, and nobles all buzzed about the field as though it were a fairgrounds. It was rather warm for a spring day, even considering how far south they were. "Come now," Lyanna replied. "Surely you are not afraid of a little sun?"

"Fear is for lesser men," Wendel scoffed. "But so far south as we are, I am rather a Merling out of water. I fear that should I linger here too long, I will be cooked."

Lyanna smiled politely. "Why did you come on this trip then? Surely it was not compulsory?"

Wendel smiled. "Your company is reason enough for me. I should think it would be reason enough for any man."

"And I am grateful for yours. But there is no need to be so gallant, ser. No man ever has only one reason for a thing."

"He might if a woman is involved. A man in love will do anything for the target of his affections."

"You mean, a man will do anything he would otherwise have done already, but say that he did it for love." Wendel moved to protest, but Lyanna pressed on. "I've seen men win tournaments for their true love. I've never seen a man lose a tournament for his love."

Wendel laughed. "Of course! What glory is there in failure? That would be like presenting a bouquet of crushed roses!"

"Ah, but crushed roses smell the sweetest."

"A fair point! The image of a crushed rose, that was a poor choice on my part." He cleared his throat. "But to speak of flowers, what reason does the winter rose of the North have to meet here with all these southern flowers?"

Lyanna's eyes cut sharply to inspect Wendel's face, ice rushing through her veins. A Winter Rose, he called her? Did he know what he had just implied? His features were calm, unaware of the insult he had paid her. She let out a breath. Wendel had likely never heard that story, or else he had not made the connection.

The Winter Rose was what some called the Stark maid of legend that had run away from home to be with Bael, the King Beyond the Wall. She had been called many names in the capital, but that one rung true, and so she hated it more than all the others. But there was no use in getting angry with Wendel. He had probably heard some lout in the castle call her that name and had thought it a sweet compliment.

"I have no political interests," Lyanna managed, "Hawking is pleasant and I have not left King's Landing for years. I have no other design at this point in my life other than my own contentment."

"That is not good news," Wendel stating, shaking his head. "Hunger, Lyanna, is what makes men do great things. Pigs and sheep do not desire greatness, but men are hungry."

Lyanna laughed, causing Wendel to start. Had he really just called her a pig? And yet, she could not be insulted, since now she knew that his courtly mask had dropped. Wendel was a fine, gallant man, but around her, he sometimes put on airs that did not suit him. "Hunger, Ser Wendel? You have known it in your time?"

"Of course!" Wendel stated. "It is always fat men who feel the hunger most keenly. How else do they become fat? A starving man wants only enough food to live. A fat man wants all the food in the world."

Lyanna thought about that a moment. "I suppose I can agree with that," she said eventually. "At the end of the war, I wanted little indeed."

"And now? Do you again have appetite for something more?"

She did. But Wendel need not concern himself with her plans for the present. She simply smiled to him. "I suppose that I must leave the greatness to you."

"I had best be about greatness, then. I see a man over there from Gulltown with whom I must speak."

This was Wendel's true purpose. The man had been sent by his father to court her, but also to speak with nobility who controlled trade into White Harbor. A man always had more than one purpose for a thing. In any case, he was only here socially; Wendel did not keep a hawk. "Well, if you are off to speak of trade, I will not detain you. The skies are calling to me."

He bowed awkwardly, his shirt bunching up around his neck as he did so, and they parted ways.

Finally alone as she walked, she took a moment to collect her thoughts. Winter Rose. That had been another of Cersei's inventions. The Queen did not know the truth of the name. She could not have. Lyanna had told no one but Ned that she had been willing at first. Cersei suspected, however, and there were enough fools in the Red Keep who would believe the story without proof. She could see Cersei's sly smile in front of her now, knowing, cruel. Lyanna wondered what she said to Stannis when they were alone together. Did the King suspect that she had gone willingly with Rhaegar? Had he sent his Rat to sniff out whether she had any loyalties to the Dragons? Would Barristan have known? Davos Seaworth's gentle, implacable eyes rose before her and she shuddered, despite the warmth.

Enough. See only victory. Do not give defeat a place. If she doubted that her goal was possible, it might as well be. This trip was only the first step of thousands, and Cersei's smirking face could not be allowed to stand in her way. There was no proof that could condemn her, and they could do nothing to her even if there was.

Stannis' party was not far ahead. Willas' great golden eagle was wheeling overhead. The massive beast dwarfed Stannis' little goshawk. Even Brighteyes, the largest gyrfalcon Lyanna had ever seen, was only half the size of Willas' Farwind. She mounted the horse they had provided her, fetched her bird from the mews, and rode to meet them.

"Ah, Lady Lyanna comes to join us!" Willas greeted her with a smile as she approached, turning his horse to the side to face her. Willas looked as well as ever. Young, handsome, bright. She smiled to think what a handsome man he would be in time. Stannis loomed behind him like a thundercloud, his lean face somber and unwelcoming. The King was scarcely older than Lyanna, but looked half again his age, with faint lines beginning to trace their way across his face.

"Apologies for my lateness, your Grace, Willas," she allowed, bowing to each of them in turn. "I see that Farwind is already in the air. Are you going to be making more sport for us today?" Willas had somehow taught his great eagle to go after larger prey. He had even set the bird on a startled young doe the previous day.

"Perhaps," Willas allowed with a knowing smile. "Perhaps if you return the favor."

Lyanna smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair beside her ear. Brighteyes was the most responsive bird Lyanna had ever seen. She could make her do anything she wanted. She would stay calm without a hood on, fly to whichever man she pointed, and let strange men touch her. Benjen had done a marvelous job training her.

"Willas already 'making sport,'" Stannis stated flatly. "Hawking is the hunting of birds, and is sport. Your other efforts take it beyond that into the realm of mummery."

Lyanna drew in a breath. If one of her brothers or Willas had said such a thing, she would have taken it for a jape. But Stannis was King and did not jape. She released her breath in a rush. "Even so, your Grace, is there anything wrong with a bit of mummery?"

Stannis did not reply. He had not smiled at their earlier 'sport' in the days previous, but he neither had he objected. Had he been silently resenting them all week? Lyanna's eyes went to Willas'. His face was as unreadable as Lyanna's own, but something of an understanding passed between them.

"Your Grace," Willas slowly added. "I apologize if I gave offense with my showmanship."

"None was taken," Stannis stated curtly, his jaw clenching forcefully. "Now, since Lady Lyanna is here, we should get the hunt started."

They rode in a large group, spread out through the woods as they moved. Even the King's' bad mood could not dampen her spirits today. All her plans might be for naught, but the joy of riding again was enough to renew her.

She pulled her horse close to the King. This was a less formal setting, so such a thing was permitted, even if the Stormguard and the Kingsguard clustered around them. "My King," she began with uncertainty. She was no diplomat. But she must try. Her Jon deserved that much. And in any case, what did she have to fear? The King was even worse at conversation than she was. "My King, I fear that this hunting trip is rather a tedious affair for you."

Stannis did not turn to face her. "I am not given to hawking as a performance for strangers," he said definitely. "I continue the practice only because it is a relief from the snakes and lickspittles that plague me."

She laughed at that. "Is that how you see us, your Grace?"

Stannis half-turned to her, his frown deepening. "Perhaps not. But do not take me for a fool, Lady Lyanna. I know well enough why you are here."

"A woman can have more than one reason for a thing, Your Grace," Lyanna replied, keeping her voice light as much as was possible. She supposed that she had not been half as clever as she had thought. But if the King knew her reasons, perhaps that was a good thing. If manners were a shield, blunt honesty was a warhammer. "My Jon poses no threat, and I would convince you of that, but riding and hawking are reason enough to leave my son behind, at least for a moon. Besides, what great evil is there in knowing the important men of the realm better? No doubt you have similar designs."

Stannis clenched his jaw. "It galls me. Loyalty is owed and trust is earned. Everything else is wind when blood begins to flow."

"If House Stark has not earned your trust by now I hardly can guess what more you would have us do." She willed her jaw shut, cursing her own glib tongue. But Ned had given Stannis his crown and asked for nothing in return. What business did Stannis Baratheon have insulting the honor of a man like that?

"Your brother is loyal. Loyal to Robert's memory." Stannis scowled. "We both know who he would have preferred on the Iron Throne. Robert is dead and I am a king, and still, his shadow hangs over me."

"And why should Ned prefer you as King?" Lyanna replied hotly, her face reddening even before she finished speaking. Twice now she had spoken without thought, but there was no retreating now. "Robert was like blood to Ned. He broke a realm for my brother's vengeance. You have never spoken to my brother but to tell him what he owed you, and the one thing he asked of you, which was his right, you withheld from him."

"Is this what you think it means to rule?" Stannis snarled. "To buy loyalty with reckless favoritism? Or is it merely Robert's excess that you loved him for? Should I drown myself in wine and bury myself in a pile of whores?"

"I did not say that."

The Stormguard and the rest of the party had pulled away from the barbarous conversation. The king rode in stormy silence, refusing to reply. Lyanna did not ride away, but neither did she move to speak. This conversation had become dangerous, and she needed to choose her words carefully.

"My brother loved yours," she eventually said, her voice low and quiet. "But do not think that his love was blind. Some men praise other men for drinking and whoring, but my brother saw it for what it was. Robert may have been a great king, he may have been a poor one, but that had nothing to do with my brother's bond with him. As to me, I was betrothed to him when I was only four and ten but even then I knew what his appetites would mean for our marriage. I feared Robert, your Grace."

The king continued in silence for a time. They had nearly come to the hill from which they planned their hunt. Just before they stopped, he looked her in the eyes. "It was beneath me to offer insult as I did," he said, his words stiff but genuine.

A sliver of a smile spread over her face without her prompting. An apology from Stannis Baratheon? That was a rare gift indeed. She shook her head. "It was beneath me to respond as I did," She stated hurriedly.

Willas Tyrell had been lagging behind, speaking with several of his attendants. Now he caught up to them, his great eagle perched on one arm. "The Seven favor us with clear skies, your Grace. I think we shall have a fine hunt today."

The King did not reply immediately, merely looking out over the woods. He sucked in a deep breath of air and nodded. "Clear skies, yes." He turned to Willas. His face was as dour as ever, but Lyanna noted that he held his head a little higher than he had before. "Come on then, get a hood over your bird. I want to see mine fly before noonday."
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