Chapter Fourteen: Underneath The Evidence

A/N: And finally, another update! Things are definitely going to get more intense after this. No Robb in this one, but don't worry, he'll be back in the picture soon ;) Please do review!

To his utter surprise, Aegon found himself seeking out Lyandra's company more and more often. He pretended that he didn't understand it. The girl was insufferable, with a hot temper to rival dragon fire. Yet there was something about her that drew him in, like a fish caught on a line with no way of escape. As much as he tried to deny it, Aegon was coming to the horrifying conclusion that he might just possess some kind of feelings for the Stark girl. The notion was more terrifying than any battle.

He strode down towards Lyandra's tent, immediately stopping in his tracks when he realised that the girl was changing. Aegon had been brought up to be a proper gentleman, and so at first he turned away and averted his eyes. But then the adolescent male in him craved just a small peek, just a harmless look. So Aegon lifted his head and gazed at Lyandra's bare back.

He was shocked to see the white lines that crisscrossed her otherwise smooth pale skin. Studying the marks, he could see that they were too thin to have been caused by a knife. They were the marks of one who had sustained some kind of lashing. Immediately, Aegon realised that there was more to Lyandra Stark than he had anticipated. Before he could look away, she turned and glanced over her shoulder – right into his violet eyes.

"Get out!" Lyandra barked, hurriedly pulling her dress on. Her expression was one of fury as she stalked over to him. He didn't know if she was angry because he had been watching her change, or because he had seen the weaknesses that her clothes managed to hide. "You have no right to watch me like that. I don't care if you think you are King, you have no right at all!"

Aegon held up his hands in an attempt to placate her. "Lyandra, I apologise. I came to see you and had no intention of watching you…"

"Yet you did!" Lyandra exclaimed, tears welling in her blue eyes. He understood then that it was certainly the marks on her back. She was ashamed of them, and for him to have witnessed something so private…it upset her.

"Lyandra." Aegon caught her by the shoulders, holding her firm as she struggled against him. "Who gave you those marks?"

She immediately stopped thrashing and bit down on her lip. Aegon wondered whether she would tell him, whether she trusted him enough yet to allow him to share in one of her darkest moments. Aegon knew he may not be the most moral and virtuous young man at times, however there were so many things wrong with treating a girl in such a way. He boiled with fury at whoever had hurt Lyandra.

"In King's Landing, I attempted to escape the Lannisters with Sansa." Lyandra licked her dry lips, not daring to meet Aegon's questioning gaze. What would he think of her when she confessed to the truth? "I was caught and my punishment was to be whipped several times, to teach me a lesson in obedience."

"That is no lesson," Aegon said firmly, "That is torture, and it should not have been carried out against any woman let alone one of a noble house."

"Do you think the Lannisters thought that?" Lyandra laughed bitterly, trying desperately to hold back her tears. She had been weak before, and now was the time for strength. She took a deep, shuddering breath and imprisoned her emotions inside herself. When she opened her eyes, there were no tears to be seen. "They cared nothing for my house. I was an enemy, I tried to escape them. That was all that mattered. So I bear those scars as a tribute of my defiance."

"I think they make you even more beautiful," Aegon blurted, before he even understood what he was saying. He wasn't sure if such compliments would be seen as wise in Jon's eyes, however he was only thinking of the necessary ways to make Lyandra feel stronger. He truly believed in his words, though. Lyandra's courage in the face of inevitable destruction made her a much more strong-willed woman than many he knew. "The scars on your back. They signify your bravery, and I think that's the loveliest thing about you."

Lyandra turned her face, cheeks burning with heat. She knew that she must have gone awfully red. Men never flattered her in such a manner, but in some way, she was extremely grateful that Aegon was not praising physical beauty, but rather the beauty of the soul. It was a rare thing in men, even a seventeen-year-old girl knew that much. She folded her arms around herself.

"You flatter me far more than I deserve."

"Lyandra." Aegon gripped her chin gently, turning her to face him. Staring up into those violet eyes of his, she could see her future. Their future. It frightened her. "You deserve to be complimented."

Then he pressed his lips to hers, very softly, almost as if asking for permission. Lyandra wanted to baulk at first, if only because she understood that he was still her captor. But there was something so tempting about it that she pressed closer, deepening the kiss as he slid his arms around her waist and drew her against him. Where had the line been, and when had they crossed it? Lyandra did not know, all she knew was this wasn't how men interacted with their prisoners. In that moment, she had never wanted something as much as she wanted him.

"Do you want me to stop?" Aegon inquired, pulling back slightly to observe her closely.

"No," Lyandra whispered, reaching forward to take his face in her hands. "That's what I'm so afraid of."

He kissed her again with renewed vigor, and Lyandra responded just as passionately, fingers running through his soft silvery hair. She had never imagined that she would fall in love, that she would find someone she cared for with all her heart. Only now she felt like laughing and crying at the same time – because she had found love, completely without meaning to. The only issue was that the man she loved was her captor.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Samaria asked sternly, her tone holding no room for argument. A scout had returned and claimed that he had found Lyandra – held captive by a silver-haired young man that was allegedly Aegon Targaryen. Samaria found this all a little difficult to believe. The man must be an imposter, for the Targaryen boy was long dead. As for Lyandra? Well, she needed absolute assurance that the dark-haired girl spotted in the camp was truly her good-sister before she made a decision.

"With all due respect, your Grace, I would recognise Lyandra anywhere," the scout insisted.

Samaria turned to glance at Edmure. He was the one with military experience. She might be the true authority within their group, however she had no experience on the battlefield, except for what she'd heard from Robb. The auburn-haired man studied the scout carefully. His niece's safety was important to all of them, yet they could not afford to make a rash decision that could see all of them killed. Perhaps, if Samaria had not been present, things would have been different.

"I want you to take us to this camp," Edmure remarked, pointing a gloved finger at the scout. "We will wait until nightfall, when the remainder of them are asleep. That is when we will attack. It is a tactic my nephew has used in battle before, and it has always worked out rather well for him."

Samaria nodded her agreement, but something didn't quite sit right with her. She had a bad feeling about this ambush, yet she knew Edmure would not listen to a woman's intuition, not even his Queen's. Instead she traced her fingers over her stomach, which had not swollen with child despite Robb's efforts. She had cried bitterly when she had last experienced her monthly bleeding, cried for her failure. Robb had soothed her tears, but Samaria could not help but remain very afraid.

"Then that is what we shall do, Edmure."

The smell of smoke wrenched Lyandra from sleep. She was on her feet within moments, grabbing a cloak and padding out of her tent in search of the source. Something must be burning within the camp – and from the shouts outside, it was more than just someone's meal. Wandering out into the darkness, Lyandra was shocked by what she saw, and she drew her cloak more tightly around her as though a simple piece of fabric could protect her.

Horses were riding through the camp, their riders' swords glinting in the pale moonlight as they slashed down Aegon's men. Several tents were on fire, and Lyandra wondered if these mad men were intent on burning the camp down. Were they the Mountain's men, perhaps? Lyandra did not want to think of it. She would certainly be raped and killed if they were. However it was only when Lyandra saw the young woman with dark blonde hair that she caught her breath and realised precisely what was happening.

Samaria.

Lyandra knew that she must warn Aegon – not of the attack, but of the danger to a woman. Collecting her thoughts, she glanced around the camp and immediately hurried off towards the young dragon's tent, which had already caught aflame. It was a miraculous sight to see him casually step through the flames as though they didn't exist, as though it wasn't actually fire burning away at his clothes. There was cold determination on that handsome face, and Lyandra bit her lip.

A horse's panicked neigh and a coarse scream made Lyandra whip around. Several of the horsemen, who were no doubt men of the North, had been taken down by a small group of archers, who fired on them relentlessly. An arrow had struck Samaria's horse, which reared up in panic. Samaria clung to the horse for all she was worth, but Lyandra knew that her good-sister was not a natural rider, and so she sprinted over towards Samaria in a flurry of cotton and bare feet.

Yet before Lyandra could reach the older girl, Samaria was thrown from the bucking horse, hitting the ground with a sickening crack that made the dark-haired girl wince. She froze in horror, watching as Samaria groaned, blood trickling down the side of her head, before she slumped and fell still. Before Lyandra could see to her, someone grabbed her around the waist, causing her to scream and kick out of instinct.

"It's me," Aegon hissed in her ear, holding her tightly as she continued to thrash in his arms. "Stop your struggling."

Yet there was no warmth in his voice now, no indication of the compassionate young man who had kissed her mere hours ago. Lyandra stilled in his arms, more out of fear than anything. How could he change so drastically? Was this the result of the camp being invaded? Lyandra wrenched one arm free and pointed insistently towards Samaria.

"Please, Aegon. She's hurt, she fell from her horse…"

"She?" Aegon repeated the word with something like alarm. However, before Lyandra was given the chance to speak again, Jon Connington crossed over to them with a bloody man at sword point. It took Lyandra a heartbeat to realise that the man in front of her was in fact her uncle Edmure.

"This was the only survivor," Jon stated, giving Edmure a none too gentle push to send him to his knees before Aegon. "We wanted more of them alive, but some were crushed by their horses, or succumbed to their wounds before we could get to them."

"There is another." Aegon waved a hand towards the immobile Samaria. "A woman. I do not know what she is doing with them, but she accompanied them into the camp. See to it that she is cared for."

"Her name is Samaria," Lyandra blurted out, however she immediately regretted her words when Aegon spun her around. His grip on her shoulders was bruising, and there was no clemency within those violet eyes.

"Samaria Stark, Queen in the North?" Aegon demanded, to which Lyandra nodded vigorously. His jaw clenched and Lyandra wondered why he was angry at her, as if she had been the one to coordinate the attack. Surely Aegon didn't believe that with the limited freedom he had allowed her, she had contacted her brother and organised for this to occur? "Back to your tent, she-wolf. I'll speak to you again when this is sorted."

"But…" Lyandra began to protest, wanting the chance to explain herself, but Aegon was having none of it. He shook her like she was a ragdoll, and she flinched and tugged away from him.

"I said, back to your tent!"