Lyanna found her head buzzing, intense pain in her forehead.
She hid behind a tree. Just seconds later, four people rushed onto the clearing she had been on. Three of them were chasing the last one, who's shorter than them all. They managed to corner him and kicked away the stick he's holding, then proceeded to beat him.
The stick rolled towards where Lyanna was hiding, and once she saw what it actually was, she knew who that was.
It's a spear. And that's no boy but a grown man. A crannogman.
She knew him. The moment she remembered him, her body moved on its own accord.
"Stop!" She jumped out, sword in hand. "This is my father's bannerman you're attacking!"
The boys turned to look at her, surprised, yet disdain apparent on their faces. "A girl?"
That'd be their fatal mistake, as they're already inside Lyanna's attack range. "Haaaah!"
"What?! She has a sword?!" It's too late for them to avoid her blade. Lyanna's sword hit the shoulder of the leading boy and he let out a scream of pain.
Serve you right, Lyanna thought as they scattered and escaped like headless chickens. "Running away at the sight of a tourney sword? What a bunch of cowards," she said to the crannogman, who was staring at her with a mix of astonishment and admiration.
"Lady Lyanna," He stood up and walked towards her, "You have my deepest gratitude."
"It's nothing. You're... Lord Howland Reed, correct?" The Reeds have been traveling with the Starks since the Neck. Lyanna believed she remembered seeing him talking to her father before, but she wasn't completely sure of his name.
"Aye," He smiled faintly. Close up, Lyanna could see that there were cuts and bruises on his face and body.
"Let's go. We need to treat your wounds." Lyanna had questions, but she thought this was clearly more urgent.
"Such trouble is unnecessary—"
"Objection refuted. Come with me!"
"...If you insist."
—
Lyanna brought Howland to Benjen's tent and found what she needed. "So who are those jerks?" she asked while she was tending his wounds against his protests.
"Squires, probably. Must be the first time they saw one of my kind." He looked deeply embarrassed and unwilling to elaborate.
"Hmph. A bunch of rascals," Lyanna mused, "Someone needs to teach them and their knights some lessons..."
"You already did."
"Did not! They chickened out at the sight of a sword. They might even come after you again if they see that you're alone. There must be something—"
"Lya? Is that you?" Benjen's voice came from outside, "Why aren't you in your own tent— did you just bring a man back?!"
"Ben, have some faith in my intelligence. Would I really come to your tent if I'm going to have a tryst with someone? This isn't what it's looking like—"
"You had quite an eventful walk, didn't you, Lya?" Rickard also appeared, looking grumpy but not exactly angry. Then his eyes turned to Howland and his expression changed, "Reed?"
"Lord Stark." Howland nodded, appearing calm even if being found by his liege lord being in the same tent with his daughter, "I could explain."
"Wait—" Lyanna didn't want Rickard to know that she was practicing swordplay. She desperately tried to stop Howland, but one cold glare from Rickard was enough to make her shut her mouth.
Rickard's sharp gaze pierced through her. "Reed, do proceed."
Under Rickard's pressure, Lyanna was forced to stay quiet while Howland told him everything.
—
"...You did the right thing, Reed," Rickard commented once Howland finished. "Lya won't stop bothering you otherwise."
"You're making me into some sort of stalker," Lyanna protested.
"As for you, Lya, you should be glad that I'm not scolding you for your brash and thoughtless behavior." Rickard glared at her. "Not to mention your little practice section. Did you believe I wouldn't notice?"
"Huh?" Lyanna was genuinely surprised. "You're saying as you knew it all along."
"I'm your father, girl. I know everything about you." He sighed, "It's obvious when you two always disappear at the same time every day."
"Does that mean you're fine with it, Father?" Benjen asked, his brows knitted together nervously, carefully observing Rickard's expression. He was well aware of Rickard's issue.
"It didn't appear to do any harm," Rickard said flatly, "Keep it low-profile and I'll continue to ignore it."
"Thank you, Father!" Benjen immediately said. He nudged Lyanna when he saw her standing there, her eyes widened.
Lyanna never imagined Rickard could be so forgiving of her. She started to doubt, did he really think it's fine? Or he's just too embarrassed to stop her in front of Howland?
"...Thank you, Father," Lyanna said eventually, but her voice was strained and a tad too late. Rickard's stare at her turned into a glare as his jaw clenched.
"Anything you're unhappy with?" His voice high, this was a challenge he was issuing. Lyanna tried her best to not blink when she met his eyes.
"Nothing, I'm just—"
"Just?" Rickard roared, his eyes spitting fire, "Ungrateful brat, do you truly want to end up as another—"
"Why're you all in... hmm, who's that?" Brandon's giddy voice smoothly erased all tension between Rickard and Lyanna. Behind him, Eddard entered as well. It's a bit tight now— this tent was never designed to hold so many people.
Rickard turned his sight from Lyanna and sighed, "This is no place to talk. Let's move to the main tent."
—
After Rickard concluded the situation for the Stark brothers, Brandon cheerfully commented, "The tiny wolf has claws."
"Who're you calling tiny?" Lyanna glared at Brandon.
He smiled evilly, "Sorry, I mean the chubby wolf."
"Say it again, and you're dead." Lyanna hissed, and he pulled his distance from her with an over-the-top mocking fear.
"...How about we focus on our guest?" Eddard sighed and stopped their bickering, "Lord Howland, if you don't mind, you can dine on our table tonight and stay at my tent afterward."
"What a splendid idea!" Lyanna clapped her hands together, her grudge against Eddard and the argument with Brandon quickly forgotten. "You should stick close to us today, Howland, who knows if those bastards will come after you again?"
"Lya, stop being disrespectful. However, Lord Reed, you're welcome if you wish to join us in the feast."
"I'm afraid I must decline. I have no clothes suit for a feast." Howland refused politely.
"I can borrow you one. Our size should be similar," Benjen said.
"I have done nothing to deserve this generosity..." Howland's gaze moved around the tent, seemingly trying to find more excuses to not come with the Starks. Lyanna wouldn't allow him to escape.
"You're coming with us, right?" She gave him a threatening smile, with her teeth out. He widened his eyes, then nodded slowly.
"Looks like you have nowhere to run, new friend," Brandon remarked.
—
Harrenhal might be insanely large, but it was nowhere as warm as Winterfell. Even with all the decorations, to Lyanna it felt like planting flowers over a massive coffin.
As high lords, the Starks occupied a good table close to the main dais. Lyanna glanced around curiously, and not long after the feast started, she found her enemies.
"See, are those..." She pointed to the table where those bullies sat, and Howland nodded certainly. "It's them."
"Their knights... What is that symbol? Something blue on white..."
"That's two towers, Lya," Benjen said.
"So that's House...Frey, then. And that one with a pitchfork is... Frey's bannerman...Haigh, I think? And the last one, with two porcupines... it's a House in crownlands, isn't it? Farring?"
"No, I'm pretty sure it's House Blount."
"Blount, got it."
The bullies were laughing among themselves, not looking remorseful at all. Lyanna angrily thought, I should have chased them down and given them a good beating...
"Lya," Seeing her expression, Benjen quickly said, "You've done enough."
"But they're... we can't let them get away with it! They haven't apologized yet!"
"...I don't think they'll apologize to me even if we beat them up," Howland observed.
"But if it's an order from their knights, they'll have to," Lyanna said.
"How about you participate in the tourney tomorrow and beat them, Lord Howland," Benjen suggested, "That'll show them."
Howland smiled tiredly, "I don't have..." He didn't continue further. But, Lyanna thought, it's obvious what he meant.
He didn't have the skill or the equipment to take on those knights in a joust.
On the other hand, I... we—
"Hmm." Lyanna hummed thoughtfully, her eyes gleaming in excitement.
"Do I want to know what you have in mind?" Benjen asked worriedly. He knew Lyanna too well.
Lyanna smirked, "I'll tell you tomorrow."
—
A man was singing.
Lyanna was feeling bored and starting to look around for anything interesting when she heard him.
"She gave color to my life, and showed me what the light felt like..."
Lyanna knew that she had heard this song before. It's an old song, from a long long while ago. Lyanna's eyes welled up against her own will.
"Huh? Why?" Something hot and bitter piled up in her chest. Amongst her confusion, Lyanna searched for the singer.
It's Rhaegar Targaryen. He had a harp in hand, singing, his wife sitting beside him. Unlike earlier today, he didn't look at Lyanna. But it still had the same effect on her.
Lyanna couldn't hear the lyrics clearly. Rhaegar's voice was deep and low, almost a murmur lost in the crowd. However, big, round tears still escaped from her eyes. "Why... I don't..."
"Lya... are you crying?" Lyanna tried to hide her face, but Benjen still noticed.
"I'm not!" she cried.
"Please, Lya." He laughed, "There's no shame in—"
"You speak too much!" Lyanna randomly picked up the closest goblet and poured all the wine on Benjen's head.
"Hey!" "...That's my goblet." "Lyanna Stark, stop bullying your brother!"
Unsurprisingly, Rickard started lecturing Lyanna, although he didn't get completely mad at her. However, no words from him had entered Lyanna's mind. Her mind was trapped in a spiral of sadness and fear. She continued to cry, tears silently dripping down her cheeks. Noticing that something was amiss with her, Rickard released Lyanna sooner than she had expected.
Lyanna was confused. She didn't understand why she cried. Gathering her courage, she decided to speak about the issue. "Father," she called, "About what just happened..."
"Do you have more excuses for your behavior?" Rickard asked, but his voice wasn't as stern as Lyanna had expected. "...Why were you crying just then? You're made of tougher material than this."
Even now, Lyanna thought bitterly, he sounded so dismissive. Was I not allowed to cry? "It's not an excuse. I... I don't know why I did that. And I don't know why... I don't know what made me cry."
He looked concerned for a second, "Did anything happen between you and Ben?"
"No, nothing at all."
"Then..." He looked around, eyes narrowed searching for the criminal that dared to make his daughter cry. Then he sighed and shook his head, "Must be this southern weather."
"I suppose so." It's not it, Lyanna wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to tell him Rhaegar made her cry. She was afraid that if she told him, he would be too worried, or outraged, and send her straight home. This was the only chance of an adventure she would get before marrying Robert, and she didn't want to waste it.
"However," Rickard once again wore his stern mask, "This... expressing emotions of yours in public has no proper excuse. Be more considerate..."
Lyanna sighed and subjected herself to Rickard's lectures. She believed that he would never understand how she felt. She needed to talk to someone else.
—
Lyanna found Brandon whispering to a blushing Eddard and pushing his back. Intrigued, she sneaked behind them and asked, "Bran, why are you trying to embarrass Ned?"
"Oh wow! Don't scare me." Brandon didn't notice her arrival. "I'm trying to get Neddy to talk to a girl he likes."
"Huh? Who?"
"That one, with violet eyes." Brandon turned his head towards the dance floor.
Lyanna looked in the direction he indicated. Indeed, in the middle of the field, there's a dark-haired woman who matched his description. She's dancing with a red-haired man, who didn't find the dance very enjoyable.
"That's Lady Ashara Dayne, of Starfall." Eddard added, "Her brother is Arthur Dayne..."
"The Sword of the Morning." Lyanna widened her eyes. "Why don't you ask her for the next dance after this song ends?"
"See, that's what I'm telling Ned here," Brandon nodded approvingly, "But he's too stubborn and shy."
"I just don't think... she doesn't know me." Eddard protested.
"She'll know you after the dance. You two can spend a good night together!" Brandon put a hand on Eddard's shoulders and continued to persuade him.
"No," Eddard said with halted breath and burning cheeks.
"Ned, as fun as it is to tease you," Lyanna nudged him, "Time's up." The song had ended. If Eddard wanted to dance with her, now's the chance.
"Go, Ned," Brandon pushed him, "If you don't, I will."
Eddard's eyes widened. "But then..."
"Come on, it's just a dance. I'm not asking you to kiss her," Brandon said, his hands kept pushing Eddard's back.
Eddard sighed and took a step towards her with clenched teeth, looking like a boy the first time on a battlefield... then he stopped when he was five steps away from Ashara, while she glanced towards him curiously.
"..." Eddard opened his mouth, but he was seemingly stuck there as their gazes met, unable to speak a word.
"Looks like I'll have to help him after all," Brandon whispered to Lyanna, "You go back first, Lya."
Lyanna watched as Brandon introduced himself and Eddard to Ashara, then finally Eddard took her hand and danced together. Brandon smiled satisfyingly and cheered on them, to Eddard's weak protest.
But that did mean Lyanna had no chance to tell her brothers about Rhaegar. Benjen wasn't occupied, but he was still mad at her for spilling wine on him.
There was only one person left she could talk to. And she needed to be brave.
—
Lyanna hesitated to go toward the royal table. Rhaegar and her were basically strangers. She was afraid that he wouldn't take kindly to her intrusion. And he couldn't know that Lyanna cried over his singing, as he didn't even look at her.
But in the morning, she had seen him.
"What's the matter?" A dark-skinned lady asked, not unkindly. Elia Martell, wife to Rhaegar Targaryen. She looked thin, graceful, and perfect, a princess straight out of a storybook.
"Your Grace! I, I just want to come over and say... that song Prince Rhaegar just sang... it's beautiful." Lyanna stuttered through the sentence. She was ashamed of her performance, especially compared to the graceful Elia.
Elia smiled, not minding slightly at Lyanna's awkwardness. "You felt so strongly that you came to us? Rhaegar," She gently called, a hand gracefully touched the prince's shoulders, who was seemingly daydreaming, staring into space. "You should hear this too."
At his wife's nudging, Rhaegar too turned to face Lyanna. Recognition dawned in his eyes when he saw her. "Lady Lyanna?"
He knew her name.
In hindsight, this shouldn't be too surprising to Lyanna, but with his reaction in the morning, Lyanna felt her heart rate increasing.
"She wants to tell you about the song you sang," Elia told him, her gaze towards her husband full of affection.
"That song," Lyanna hurriedly explained, "It's so beautiful that it made me weep."
Rhaegar didn't appear to be particularly pleased by Lyanna's praise. He nodded, "Thank you."
"I also want to ask..."
What did you say when you saw me this morning— was what Lyanna had planned to ask, but when it came out it changed to, "What's the name of this song?"
"It doesn't have a name. Not yet, anyway," He answered.
Elia added, "He has been writing this song for a while."
Something nagged at Lyanna's memories. She thought that she had heard this song before. But it should be impossible if what Rhaegar and Elia said was true.
They remained polite to Lyanna as she found an excuse to retreat. Rhaegar showed no indication that he had anything to say to her.
But to Lyanna, the whole thing felt wrong.