Of White Trees and Blue Roses
I own nothing. This all belongs to GRRM, and I'm just playing with the story he gave us.
~X~
Chapter Twenty Five – Consquences
From the top of the swaying tree, Howland could see for miles around, though the light was beginning to fade. Having scaled a number of trees already today and seen nothing, Howland was surprised to see a small group of horsemen far in the distance and moving quickly.
Squinting, he tried to make out their banners...or even better a blue dress and a dark braid catching the wind. They were too far away to make out, but Howland decided to climb down anyway to give Brandon ample warning before they arrived, whoever they were.
Deftly making his way back down the trunk, instinctively finding a foothold on the next bough or limb until he dropped to the ground, he startled the knights and soldiers waiting for him underneath.
"Horsemen heading this way," Howland said, slightly out of breath but pointing in the relevant direction.
"Was she with them?" Brandon barked, and for a second Howland backed away.
"I don't know. They were too far away to see, but they were riding in this direction."
Howland wished that he had drank a little less last night, and hadn't lain in too long to join Lyanna on her morning ride. For all he told himself that this was just the northern maiden's nature, and that she was probably just having a lark leading her father's men a merry dance, he couldn't help feel that she had been missing a little too long.
If Howland felt regretful and concerned, then Lyanna's older brother was dealing with his worry in a different way. He paced up and down, looking like some kind of caged beast, spooked and dangerous. Also, the mood of the camp was much more sombre. Fires were being lit and the smell of food being prepared hung in the air, but there was no laughing or frivolity, and barely a word was spoken around Brandon lest he turn and snarl.
"I can't stand here and wait for them to come to me," Brandon said to the group. "Howland, lead us out to meet them. If my sister thinks this was sport she's going to spend the rest of the journey on a leash."
Things became chaotic as numerous knights and young lordlings mounted their horses. After taking a few moments to get his bearings, predicting how much further the riders would have travelled and their most likely route, Howland rode at the head of the party, Brandon Stark on his right flank.
Though the sky was a picturesque mix of blue, pink, and orange light, those at ground level found it growing darker and torches were lit. Finally, horses and men upon them could be seen in the distance, and the torches alerted them to the search party like a beacon.
Squinting, Howland saw that there was no woman or girl amongst them, and his heart sank. He became even more anxious when he saw that the mounted soldiers were bloodied, and they were indeed Lord Rickard's guards sent to protect his daughter.
They finally drew close enough to speak.
"Ser Brandon..." the knight riding at the front of the group said, taking a moment to catch his breath.
Brandon rode forward. "My sister—where is she? What happened?"
Still gasping the knight squeezed out, "This morning we were following your sister...she lost us, as usual. She went into some woods, and when she came back out of them on the other side, she was being chased—"
"Who? Who was chasing her?" Brandon's horse was now side by side with the weary knight. And Howland couldn't help but notice the Stark guard's muddy armour and the blood spatters on his face.
"Targaryens, Ser. Your sister was riding fast—like the wind—but the prince and his kings guard caught her at a ford." The man swallowed hard. "We tried to get to her, but before we could, they'd ridden off with her...and sent his men to face us."
"And so you ran away and left her? The girl my father sent you to protect."
"No, Ser." The knight grimaced and shook his head. "Half of us are still lying on that field. There were too many, too well prepared. It was like an ambush. If by some miracle one or two of us had fought through, then we'd have to catch them...and the prince had the Sword of the Morning with him. I thought it best if we pulled back and found you, found more men."
Brandon took a second to think, and then turned to the muddy knight. "Which way did they go?"
"South. At least, that was the way they were headed when I lost sight of them."
Elbert Arryn spoke up. "Do we follow them in the dark and risk missing their trail?"
"They already have a day's ride on us," another companion added, "and it seems that there are armed Targaryens who will want to stop us along the way."
Bickering and mumbling increased in volume, culminating in Brandon yelling, "Enough!" A silence fell.
"I want every armed man that I can gather ready to travel in two hours. I'll ride them down all the way to King's Landing if I have to."
There was a moment of pause before people fired into action, heading back toward the camp with shouts and commands. Howland went to join them, to collect his meagre belongings and join the search for Lyanna, but he was halted by Brandon calling his name and rode back.
"I need you to do a job for me," Brandon said solemnly. "I can imagine father is nearing the Neck by now, and I don't think anyone will be able to traverse it quicker than you. I need you to take a message for me."
For a moment, Howland wanted to object. He wanted to say that the right place for him to be was the rush south with the rescue party, but Brandon was right. No one else would reach Lord Stark quicker than he would if they'd reached the swamps he'd grown up in. Still, it felt like a betrayal to abandon the girl who'd once fought off three squires to protect him when he'd been little more than a total stranger.
"Yes. What is the message?"
"I need you to tell my father what happened here today—take these men just in case you meet any Targaryens on the way, and they will be able to give him a firsthand account." Howland nodded his understanding of what Brandon was saying. "And I want you to tell him that I couldn't abide the thought of going to Riverrun, and wedding and bedding my new wife, knowing that Rhaegar was raping my sister. I will deal with it and return, but only once I have Lyanna."
Howland stared back as the gravity of the situation hit him. Ser Brandon Stark had ridden against Rhaegar Targaryen before, and he remembered how that had ended—Brandon had been bedridden for days after. This was no tourney. Plus, the prince had Lyanna and knew that she was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Though he had helped them at the tournament, maybe the prince had now decided that it was time for the "traitor" to be taken before his father?
I will tell, Lord Stark, Howland decided. I will tell him everything—Harrenhal, the Knight of the Laughing Tree, everything.
"Ride swiftly. Take what you need and go." With that, Brandon Stark left and set about his own preparations.
Howland took the wounded and tired soldiers back to the camp, gave them time to change their horses, grab new water skins, and a little food before they got underway. The rest of the camp was still in chaos as Brandon's makeshift group of mounted swords prepared themselves for the pursuit.
With one last look, Howland fretted for Lyanna's safety, and then pointed his horse north, riding as hard as he could under the darkness of the night that had fallen.