"What is the important message you needed Benjen to deliver to Brandon, Father?"
Lyanna's father stared at her with astonishment. "Really, Lyanna, how is that any of your concern?"
Back to Lyanna again, not Lya. Her father was not pleased with her. She steeled herself. Too much was at stake for her to lose her nerves now. She remembered the words she had prepared, the arguments she had planned. "If Stannis is involved, then it is my concern. He is my husband."
Her father scoffed. "Involved? Do you think I'm plotting something with your husband behind your back?"
Involved was the wrong word. Affected was what she should have said. "If Stannis is affected –"
"We're all affected. The whole realm. Every man, woman and child, lords, knights and common folks alike. It is not only about your dear and beloved husband, Lyanna," her father said, his tone scornful.
The husband you were desperate for me to marry, Father. The one you made me wed. She did not say this to her father; her courage only extended so far. And also because despite everything, she still loved him, and had no wish to hurt him.
"If it comes to war …" Lyanna hesitated.
Her father glanced up sharply. "What has Stannis been telling you?"
"The truth," Lyanna said. He told me the truth. Unlike you, Father. My husband does not shield me, or anyone else, from the truth. That is not his way.
Her father laughed. "Don't be so naïve, Lya. He only told you what he wanted you to know. Not the whole truth."
"He told me whatI wanted to know," Lyanna replied, undeterred.
"And what is that?" To Lyanna's surprise, her father looked genuinely curious. "Tell me, what do you want to know, my child?" Her surprise was compounded by his suddenly gentler tone and even more tender expression. With that voice and that look on his face, Rickard Stark had once sat on his daughter's bed night after night after his wife's death, waiting for Lyanna to stop crying and fall asleep.
She would have preferred him to continue being angry and scornful; that would have strengthened her resolve. Instead, her determination was flagging.
"Your father has chosen a side," her husband's voice echoed in Lyanna's head. "And he has not chosen the king."
"It is treason,"Lyanna whispered. "To conspire against the king." She grasped her father's hand tightly, her fear mounting. For her father. For her brothers. For her husband. For Renly, and for the child she was carrying. For herself.
And even, loath as she was to admit it, even for him. For the man she had steadfastly refused to think about at all since the talk of war began to rear its head. The man currently languishing in his own father's prison.
Lyanna's father put his other hand on top of hers, and they were connected like that, father and daughter, hand over hand over hand, for an all-too-brief moment. Her father was the one who broke the connection, sighing deeply and looking away. "It is not treason if you are working to put the rightful king on the throne," he finally said, his voice almost a whisper too, as Lyanna's had been earlier.
"King Aerys is the rightful king," Lyanna said. She knew she sounded so much like Stannis, but this time, it did not bother her.
"He has forfeited his claim by his own actions," her father replied, his face impassive.
"And you are confident that Prince Rhaegar will be different than his father? That he will be a better king?"
"He will have no choice but to do so," her father replied with confidence. "Certain promises were made, shall we say. And Rhaegar will not be permitted such a free rein as Aerys is accustomed to right now, to indulge in his cruelty and … and … depravity," he continued, disgusted.
"King Aerys will not back down so easily, not even for his own son. He has been suspicious of Prince Rhaegar for a long time, even before the tourney at Harrenhal," Lyanna said.
"How do you know that?" Her father was looking at her suspiciously. "Who told you about Harrenhal?"
Rhaegar did, when we spoke under the stars. With the garland of blue winter roses still circling her forehead. No, not under the stars, there were no stars that night. It was only the moon. Only the brightness of the moon deceiving them. Trick of the moonlight, Rhaegar had said.
Trick of the heart, Lyanna thought. We deceived ourselves that we were in love.
"Lya? Who told you about Harrenhal and King Aerys' suspicion?" Her father repeated his question, his tone sharper this time.
Another blunder, an even bigger one this time. She would have to watch her steps more carefully, if she wanted to have any hope of convincing her father of anything.
"Perhaps … if I tell him … if I tell him about Rhaegar and myself -" Lyanna had said to her husband.
"What good will that do?" Stannis had replied. "I am worried it might even drive him to a more drastic path."
The Starks were kings once, her father had taught Lyanna and her brothers. King in the North.
"Stannis," Lyanna replied, not looking at her father. "Stannis was the one who told me."
"Stannis was not present during the tourney at Harrenhal," her father said, his eyes refusing to leave Lyanna's face, scrutinizing, probing, testing.
"Rhaegar … Prince Rhaegar … he spoke with Stannis during his nameday feast. He was the one who told Stannis about Harrenhal, and about King Aerys' suspicion," Lyanna said quickly.
Her father looked skeptical. Lyanna waited for the inevitable barrage of further questioning. But as it turned out, her father asked only one question. "And Stannis told you about it?" He asked, his tone extremely doubtful.
She had to work hard to hide her relief. Her father's skepticism was not about the source of the information, but about Stannis telling Lyanna about it. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the full-impact of her father's words finally hit her.
"I am his wife after all," Lyanna replied, feeling offended. "Is it so unbelievable that Stannis would tell me?"
Her father was the one not meeting her gaze this time. He stood up and walked slowly to the window. His back was towards her when he started speaking again. "It is a terrible thing to say, but I was … somewhat relieved when Robert died."
Lyanna was astonished. Had her father not wanted her to marry Robert after all?
"It was an excellent match, of course, for both Houses. A vital and much-needed match, in fact. But there is a recklessness in Robert that reminds me so much of you, Lya," her father said, finally turning around to face her. "I fear for you both, encouraging and compounding each other's recklessness, with nothing and no one to temper it."
Then why did you agree to the betrothal in the first place, Father? She would have cried, if she had any tears left. And what good does it do telling me now?
Her father was not done upending her world, however. "Stannis … now Stannis, on the other hand, he is a safer pair of hands, or so I thought at the time. Cautious. Careful. Cold. He could temper your recklessness, cool the wild fire raging inside you." He paused. "He could … keep you safe," he continued softly.
Lyanna was outraged. "I don't need –"
Her father interrupted. "But I'm beginning to think that I have been sorely mistaken. There is a profound core of obstinacy within Stannis, an icy coldness that can never be thawed, more dangerous than any fire in the world. In his own way, he is perhaps even more reckless than Robert ever was, or would have been."
"You're only saying that because Stannis refuses to do what you want him to do," Lyanna pointed out.
"I only want him to do the right thing!" Her father exploded.
"The right thing according to you, Father," Lyanna replied firmly.
"The right thing that will keep us all safe. Baratheons and Starks both," her father said softly.
"A war will not keep anyone safe," Lyanna said.
"Nor will a crazy king on a rampage, left unchecked and unrestrained," her father replied. "With Rhaegar as king, things will be different."
He will owe you and the other lords flocking to support him, you mean. You will tie his hands and pull his strings, and make him a king in name only.
And yet, wasn't even that preferable to a mad king? Lyanna did not know the answer to that question. She wished fervently that her husband was by her side. Not so he could tell her the answer, but so they could argue, debate and ponder the problem together.
They had traveled a long way together, Stannis and Lyanna, in growing intimacy if not in time and distance. Together but apart, that was what they were in the beginning. "It's not enough," she had told him. "Not for me." He had tried. She had tried. They had both tried to close the distance between them, with some success, she thought.
And yet how is it that we are now truly and completely apart?