She tried to run.

That's what she later sobs to Brandon and Ned, repeating it until her tears begin to choke her. Her brothers barely look at her, and when they do, the guilt etches rivers of numbness from her chest to her fingers.

" Stupid girl ," Brandon calls her, teeth clenched with barely repressed rage. He's panicking too, her gallant brother, suddenly not a self-assured young Lord anymore. Father put him in charge of the pack while at Harrenhal and there are expectations on him to fix this mess.

A mess which she created.

"I wanted to help Lord Reed." She looks at Ned, beginning him to understand. He doesn't meet her eyes.

" Really , Lyanna?" Brandon snarls, jerking in her direction so suddenly that even the Kingsguard standing by her side startles. "You decided that the best way to help Howland was to shame our family's name? Do you think I'm stupid? You wanted to play your stupid game and he was as good of an excuse as any."

" That's not true! " She defends weakly, making a step forward. Ser Oswell puts a hand on her shoulder and she stills, a deer in a predator's maw.

Instead, she trembles in place, reminded once again of the position they are in. Her body aches from the joust; she took a couple hits from the opponent's lance in the last match. They took her armour and left her in just her breeches and the sweat-soaked linen shirt she stole from Ned the previous morning. The cold is as good excuse as any for her shakiness.

"Isn't it? You already helped Howland, he didn't need to be avenged . And even if he did, you could have asked me or Ned or even Robert Baratheon. There were a thousand ways to handle this and you're telling me you picked the one that let you enjoy yourself playing at being a knight because you thought it was the smartest one? "

"I-"

"Great work Lyanna! We might all die tomorrow, but at least you had fun, right?"

"I-" her vision blurs from the tears. It hurts, it hurts because Brandon is right. She wanted to run wild, wanted to do things she knew were forbidden. Fun doesn't describe it; on that horse, with a lance in her hand and covered in armour, facing men twice older than her, she felt alive . At that moment, Lyanna Stark existed only in the present; there was no past grief to hold her back, no dreadful future at Storm's End to fear. Just the wind blowing through the slit in her visor, the thunderous clacking of hooves and her opponent getting nearer and nearer.

She could understand why men lived and died for that sport. She would have been happy dying for it too.

But then, when she was still coming down from the thrill of her final victory, the King had jumped up in a frenzy, asking for the anonymous knight to unmask himself. Lyanna ran but Aerys Targaryen is not a man who can be denied. They caught her and dragged her back, to face her judgement.

And judgement she would receive.

" I didn't know it would turn out like that. " The words are little more than a whisper; they do nothing to quell her brother's anger, or calm his fears. But Lyanna is enough of a stupid, silly girl still that she can't handle being accused in such a way without defending herself. Even if she can't help but agree with everything he says.

It was Brandon who saved her life, jumping to her defence.

"I demand a Trial of Seven!" He howled, stepping between her and the twitching, neglected-looking creature they called King.

The King who reacted almost gleefully, as if he had been simply waiting for that moment.

"You betray yourself, you wretched traitor!" His shrill voice cracks when he speaks ,"You Starks dare to scheme against your rightful King? I will have all of your heads when the Gods judge you guilty. I will allow you a Trial of Seven and we shall see who else is scheming with you!"

Aerys jerked violently as he spoke, moving like a puppet with its strings tangled. From the candles burning behind him, he cast a large shadow that seemed to swallow her brother whole.

In her life, Lyanna had never seen anything as terrifying nor had she felt as powerless

They cannot find enough fighters, Ned tells her, worrying his lip between his teeth. Nobody will side with them and risk the King's wrath, not after Aerys openly implied it will be seen as an act of treason.

"We have me, Brandon, Robert, Elbert Arryn and Albyn Snow, while the King will certainly use his Kingsguard." He glances at Ser Oswell. "Jaime Lannister joined the sworn brothers, that makes it seven."

Jaime Lannister, Lyanna remembers, is a green boy. Compared to the other six, he is the least of their problems.

Robert, bless his soul, drops on his knees before her like a man worshipping. He is not angry with her; he is incapable of seeing any wrong in her at all. Somehow that makes it worse.

"You need not worry, my Lady! We shall find some capable men to join us or I shall order my bannermen to provide some."

"Can your bannermen stand against the Sword of the Morning?" Brandon is pacing again. "I thought we might get Blackfish or maybe Clegane, he did well in the melee… Damn them all! A bunch of cowards!"

He wants to say more but with the presence of Ser Oswell he doesn't dare to. Even reckless as he is, Brandon knows not to dig his own hole deeper by cursing the King, not when it's Lyanna's life on the line.

Trapped in her room, under the watchful eyes of Aerys' Kingsguard, Lyanna feels suddenly removed from her own fate. Her brothers come and go, they pace and they worry. And come morning, they will fight for her life and risk losing their own.

Should they fail, this might be her last night alive.

Her mouth is dry as the deserts of Dorne when Ned and Robert leave again and she catches the sight of the window in the hallway.

The sun has nearly set.

Salvation seems less and less likely once the night falls. They are all gathered in the room, all four siblings, with Lord Howland, the three men who agreed to fight for them and the Kingsguard who they will face in the trial. Hours have passed but still, they are no closer to finding anyone willing to go to battle for her.

Benjen clings to her, weeping into her shirt. She holds him close, close enough that she feels like their heartbeats might merge into one. They're both saying goodbye, she knows but she has no more tears to shed. Her eyes are puffy and tired and her head aches fiercely.

"I wish Father was here." Ned finally admits what they are all thinking. "Or Lord Arryn."

"Wishes won't help us here, little brother, sweet as they might be." Brandon is pacing again, his anxiety plain for all to see.

Seated next to Ned, Lord Howland is bouncing his leg nervously. His face is a swollen, bruised mess still but the swelling does nothing to hide the guilt that is etched there.

"I am really sorry. I feel like this whole thing is my fault."

"Please don't say that." Lyanna finds it in her to draw herself out of her misery long enough to reassure her friend. "You've done nothing wrong."

She decides right then, prompted by the miserable atmosphere in the room, that she will be brave. Come morning, she will face her fate like the heroes from Old Nan's stories, unjust as it might be.

Let none say that Lord Stark's daughter died a scared little girl. Let them speak of my valour, rather than my tragedy.

It's an instruction she clings to like a lifeline because a scared little girl is exactly what she feels like. Lyanna does not wish to die; her heart beats wildly in her chest with youthful vitality and she knows if she dies, she will die unsatisfied.

It takes strength to push those feelings aside and force a smile on her lips, to act out the serenity and grace that she can't find in herself.

"Everything will be alright." She tells her brothers gently, voice sweet as honey "Every nightmare has its ending and I trust the Gods not to put this challenge in front of us for no reason."

Her acceptance brings some calm even to Brandon. He stops pacing, collapsing heavily on one of the free chairs.

Robert looks at her with open adoration. If he was anyone else, Lyanna would have thought him to be a bit teary eyed but as it is, the Lord of Storm's End is not the kind of youth to shed tears. She bears no ill will towards him but knows him to be a creature of reckless pleasures and little else. He enjoys battle like he enjoys women; he will not be sacrificing much by joining her cause.

The thought of being his trophy if they survive disgusts her a little and soaks some of the shine out of the happy outcome.

They say that the Gods favour the bold and Lyanna wonders if that is true. Almost like a reward for finding the strength inside her, they bring her Rhaegar Targaryen.

She's seen the Prince before but only from afar, a shining spot in every room he enters. Up close, he is everything people say about him and more, sad and graceful and sweeping into their mess like a bad omen. Behind him, Ser Arthur Dayne follows in his white cloak like the promise of death.

"Ser Oswell, you can go. Arthur will take your place."

Lyanna has almost forgotten about the silent knight poised behind her. The reminder draws a chill to her skin, a feather-like touch of doom.

The man leaves hesitantly, making her wonder if he felt it too "Be careful, Your Grace."

Then they are alone, the Starks and their allies, with the King's son and the deadliest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms.

Are we supposed to bow? Lyanna wonders quietly when moments pass and nobody is speaking. Defiance unveils inside her. They say the Prince is noble and kindhearted but nobody ever gives any examples of what he has done; for all they know, he might not be much different from his sire.

They can't treat us like this and expect us to be compliant subjects.

Finally, the Prince breaks the silence.

"I apologise for the intrusion. I would have normally sent a servant with a notice but I didn't think it the best idea." There is a gravity to his tone, as if he is trying to tell them something.

Well, Lyanna thinks, having had enough of the royalty, he'll just have to say it.

"What brings you here, cousin?" Robert, surprisingly, seems most at ease with the intruders. Then again, she doesn't think him clever enough to assume otherwise. "Did the King change his mind?"

"I'm afraid not. My business today is my own." He's looking at Lyanna when he says that and she feels flustered by the attention. "My Lady, I must admit, I am curious what made you decide to pick up a lance and single out those three knights in particular."

Lyanna has told this story many times today, but she feels like this is the first time anyone assumed she had intentions beyond just running wild.

"She was trying to help me, Your Grace. When I arrived here, I was attacked by three squires. Lady Lyanna was kind enough to help me and she wanted to make sure those boys are taught a lesson." Howland jumps in before she can even open her mouth, rushing to wash away any suspicion.

"I see. You are from Greywater Watch, I assume?" Lyanna breathes in relief as he focuses on the crannogman instead. There is an intensity to his stare that makes her heart race; similar to how it felt to stand before the King but less terrifying. Even without knowing much about him, she can see the difference between father and son in their demeanour; there is serenity to the Prince that the King lacks entirely, he is composed while Aerys is unbalanced.

"Yes, Howland Reed of Greywater Watch, Your Grace."

"It's an interesting place. I would love to visit one day, if you shall have me. But let us put that aside, there are less pleasant manners at hand today."

The tension in the room goes up.

"Have you found your fighters yet?"

Brandon bites his lip, suspicious.

"Five of them but we'll find two more before morning."

"My father intends to use his Kingsguard." The Prince pointed out. "Can you find men who are able to face them?"

Lyanna knows they all assumed that Aerys would use the Kingsguard but to hear it said so plainly is disconcerting, even more to have the simple truth that they can't hope to beat them spoken aloud.

"I don't think it's any of your concern."

"Believe it or not, Lord Stark, but this entire debacle doesn't start and end with just your family. The whole realm is watching it unfold." Brandon must be trying his patience there but he sounds sorrowful as he says it rather than angry. It is as if there is a great weight that he is shouldering - one that they cannot see.

"I want you to understand what you are doing and what you are dealing with. Even should you, by some chance, defeat the Kingsguard, do you think the King will happily forget all about it?"

"He can remember it for the rest of his life, as far as I'm concerned. You heard my sister's story, you know there was no goddamn treason. By the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, he has to let Lyanna go. "

Ser Arthur snorts at this, a humorless noise.

"I can see you haven't left the North much, my Lord. Kings don't follow laws - they make them." He shakes his head. "I must admit, I've said my vows and I stay true to them, but it brings me no joy to represent the Crown tomorrow. My Lady, I hope you can find it in you to forgive me."

"I am not dead yet." Lyanna tells him. "I will not have your apologies in advance. If you believe you are doing a wrong, then don't do it."

It unveils before her then, the horrible truth. Even the Sword of the Morning, who is supposed to be the image of a gallant knight, is not above doing wrongs when his honour commands him to. It seems to her more and more that heroes exist only in stories.

Maybe because they execute everyone who tries, she thinks bitterly.

"It doesn't matter if you think it's hopeless, I will give my life to defend my sister if it comes to that. If you are so certain of your victory, why bother trying to break our wills?"

Rhaegar does not seem to mind the aggressive reply much. Perhaps, Lyanna thinks, to him this is just the barking of a pup, if he sees his father half as frequently as she sees hers.

"You'll have to forgive me, I wanted to make sure. An injustice has occurred today, and a dangerous one at that. My Lady, I admire your boldness. If more people had your honour, this realm would be a better place." He steps closer, away from the door and into the full light of the candles, the fire dancing strangely in his dark purple eyes.

"So if you would have me, I would fight for you tomorrow."

It takes time to discuss everything. Brandon and Elbert are suspicious as it is not unheard of for someone to step out the last minute in these kinds of trials. Ned is more ready to accept the offer at face value and Robert simply slaps the Prince on the shoulder, declaring in a booming voice:

"I knew you would come around, cousin."

"Rhaegar," Ser Arthur addresses the man directly, concerned "what are you doing? This realm does not need another Baelor Breakspear."

If someone told her yesterday that this would be happening, Lyanna would have laughed. Now, she is left feeling winded. Like a snowball , she thinks, the reach of her little rebellion just keeps expanding, from a simple joust to inner conflict between the few remaining Targaryens.

"This realm doesn't need another Aerys." The Prince tells his friend quietly, urging him to understand. "It keeps getting worse from one day to the next. Arthur, if I stand by today, where will this end? And what will it make me?"

The Kingsguard has no answer for that but the exasperated look says enough. Lyanna finds it queer that this intention is, apparently, something not even the Prince's closest friend was aware of beforehand as she doesn't take him for an impulsive person.

"And should you die? Viserys is a child."

Rhaegar puts his hand on his shoulder in solemn reassurance.

"I will not die here." He says and he sounds like he couldn't be more certain about that.

In the end, even Arthur Dayne has to admit defeat as the man raises some valid points. The members of the Kingsguard aren't allowed to harm a member of the Royal Family, so if all seven of Aerys' champions consist of them, there is little to be done about that. Furthermore, he assures them the King is less likely to be able to convince them of treason anyway if his own blood is included in that.

"He will not execute me yet, I think." He says and it is less reassuring than he probably intended.

Still , Lyanna thinks, if the Mad King is mad enough to dispose of his own son, then we truly never stood a chance to begin with.

It fills her with hope that perhaps things will be alright. That maybe they aren't entirely without allies and that there might be a day when Aerys Targaryen's shadow no longer hangs over the realm.

The last one to join is, to everyone's surprise, Howland Reed.

"I feel really bad about my role in this." He fiddles with a lock of hair shyly. "I know I am not a warrior. I am small and I've never seen battle or studied under a master-at-arms, but I have been led here by a feeling there is a role I must fulfill. This past winter, I stayed on the Isle of Faces and I've received many premonitions there. I am certain now that this is what I must do."

Robert lets out a guffawing laugh.

"You must be jesting. I mean no offense but you yourself have just given plenty of reasons why you should be giving this spot to someone more capable."

"Fate works in strange ways." Prince Rhaegar muses quietly, "If you say you feel like this is a role you were meant to play, then I believe you. The Gods seldom pass their will to us but when they do, we need to listen. You ought to be our seventh."

Arthur Dayne looks like his knightly vows are the only thing keeping him from jumping in and strangling the man. The job of a Kingsguard must be exhausting, Lyanna thinks.

With the morning, two things become clear. The first is that Aerys Targaryen is paranoid and delusional but not blind and he is well aware of what his son is up to, as only five members of the Kingsguard are sent to fight, with Ser Barristan and Prince Lewyn protecting the Royal Family in the stands.

The second is that he has a dark, twisted sense of humor as one of the fighters is Ser Gregor Clegane, a giant of a man who has done exceptionally well in the melee, Lyanna recalls. The part that adds the insult to injury is the simple fact that Ser Gregor only became Ser Gregor three days prior, by the proxy of being knighted by Rhaegar himself.

She can't see the Prince's face through his visor but her imagination aptly fills in the blanks. It is very likely that he isn't amused.

The Trial of Seven is a lot like the melee. With seven fighters on each side, it is hard to keep track of what is going on. Lyanna feels like she blinks twice and suddenly Elbert Arryn is on the floor with the rest of them trying their best not to trip over him.

For a while then it seems like nothing happens. The tourney grounds are filled with the noises of steel meeting steel and Robert roaring with each swing of his warhammer. He is facing the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the White Bull himself, but holds his own well. For all his flaws, it is undeniable that the young Lord of Storm's End is a terror in a fight.

Albyn Snow is the next to go down by the hand of Jaime Lannister, freshly knighted and freshly accepted into the Kingsguard. He is horribly out of his depth on the battlefield and after knocking out Albyn he seems to be wandering around in confusion, looking for a new opponent, only to become the first to trip over Elbert.

With two men down on their side and one only temporarily on the ground for the King's, things seem to be going poorly for her champions.

I will be brave, Lyanna tells herself but there is cold sweat on the base of her neck as she watches from her spot in the stands, surrounded by guards.

Eventually, things even out a bit as Robert finally gets an upper hand over Ser Gerold and proceeds to help Brandon take out Ser Oswell. Their next target is Ser Jaime who, by all accounts, seems like an easy prey. Lyanna can't phantom why the King sent him instead of one of the two other guards but if the angry flush to Lord Tywin's face is any indication he had his reasons.

As it turns out, Ser Gregor is Tywin's man before he is the King's as he abandons his fight with Prince Rhaegar to help his liege's son. That leads to Ser Jonothor Darry surrendering, being forbidden from harming anyone of royal blood. Initially, he tried to back off when he saw the Prince approach but it seems they both agreed that turning this into a game of chase is below their dignity.

Were it not for Ser Boros Blount, this would be the end of it as the remaining Kingsguard could be made to surrender but, Lyanna has learned, things seldomly go their way and with the Prince occupied, it seems like her brothers are on their own.

The fight that keeps her on the edge of her seat is the fight between Ned and Ser Arthur. By all accounts, her brother should be dead twice over but it seems like the man is holding back. It goes on and on, with neither gaining an advantage.

Until the moment when Ned becomes the second to trip over Elbert that the tables turn and suddenly, Ser Arthur is above him like a white-draped terror, with Dawn poised to pierce the chest of the young man beneath.

Lyanna's trembling hands fly to her mouth on instinct, a shout of Ned's name dying on her tongue.

Please, no, not him!

A sword clatters on the floor.

The crowd goes eerily quiet, hundreds of nobles watching in disbelief as Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, the deadliest member of King Aerys' Kingsguard, sinks to his knees, a growing red blot marring his white cape.

In the Royal Box, seated beside Princess Elia, Ashara Dayne faints.

From behind the downed knight, Howland holds his bloodied knife in an unsteady hand. Lyanna, like everyone else, hasn't paid the crannogman much attention, preoccupied with everything else.

It turns out to be a deadly mistake.

After Ser Arthur falls, the fight is over quickly. Ser Gregor takes a warhammer to the knee, Ser Boros surrenders to his Prince and little Jaime Lannister somehow becomes the last man standing amongst the King's champions. Seemingly shaken by the fate that befell his sword brother, he drops his sword and accepts defeat.

A hushed silence falls over the grounds in the aftermath, guards coming to carry off the unconscious and Lord Whent's personal maester coming to tend to the wounded. The King's reaction looms on their minds like a dark cloud.

Lyanna is being ushered away by the guards but amongst the chaos, she catches a sight of Rhaegar Targaryen throwing off his helmet and kneeling at Ser Arthur's side. His silver hair spills like a curtain and if there are words being exchanged between the men, Lyanna can't see but when the maester rushes near, the Prince shakes his head mutely.

The last thing she hears before she is led into the castle is Arthur Dayne being proclaimed dead.

They bring her directly to the Great Hall to await her judgement. The King takes his time to arrive, leaving her biting her lips and ignoring the whispers of the Nobles who have come to watch the drama unfold.

I hate them, she thinks silently, knowing she can't say it out loud. I hate them all.

When Aerys finally shows up, he turns up to be the very last one to arrive. Presumably, the King was waiting for the Kingsguard that participated in the Trial to get ready to perform their duties again.

Those who remain, at least.

Lyanna tries her best but patience has never been her strong suit.

"Lady Lyanna." The King addresses her after taking his time settling on his seat. His voice is raspy and rough and echoes across the room ominously. "It seems that luck was in your favour today. You may keep your life."

She can't help a sigh of relief at that. The battle is far from over, the fates of those who supported her still up in the air but-

I'll live. I'll really get to live.

"Thank you for your mercy." She attempts a bow but her legs are shaking so badly she worries she might just fall down. There are whispers in the crowd, hushed conversation sparking amongst the observers and it sparks a flicker of anger inside her once again.

The look the King gives her is nothing short of chilling. They say he was handsome once but there is little of that found on him now, face bent and twisted with more hate than she thought was possible for a human man to hold. It is not her he sees now but a culmination of all he fears and despises.

"Wench." He spits. "Do you think me stupid? I see what you are planning, you and your whole lot! You're scheming and plotting down there in the North, with the Arrys and the Baratheons and the Lannisters. You'd have my traitor of a son on the throne and me dead and buried."

" That's not true! " Lyanna exclaims and immediately tenses, heart beating like a frightened rabbit when that hateful stare rests on her.

"Your Majesty," the Prince speaks up and she silently thanks him for taking on the full force of Aerys' attention, "there has been a misunderstanding. I have spoken to Lady Stark about what prompted her to enter the tourney, if I may explain-"

"- You may not ." Aerys shifts again, twitching in a way that makes her anxious. His nervous fits seem like a bad omen, a warning for something bad to come. "I won't have a word from you. You thought you'd be able to get rid of me with this tourney, didn't you? Stupid boy, do you think you were being stealthy?"

For the first time, Lyanna notices a crack in Rhaegar's facade, a calmness played off just a little too strongly to be real. It makes her nervous too.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

It only serves to make the King angrier.

" Liar! " He tugs at his hair, long nails catching in the tangles. When he pulls them free, he pulls out several strands of silver hair with them. " You stand there and lie to my face! "

"Your Majesty-"

"-I've had enough of you. I've warned you before that you have a brother now, you are not irreplaceable." His voice echoes off the wall.

"As the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, I am removing you from the line of succession. You will never get my throne, nor will you spread your poison in my court."

" Father , please-" The Prince drops on his knee and hangs his silver head, finally discarding the formality. The crowd shivers with hushed whispering.

"You might spend your life in exile, I am giving you this much since you are my flesh and blood. You'll take the Northern cunt with you, since you like it so much."

And just like that, the life as she knows it ends for good. She doesn't get to see her brothers but she is told about their fates; Brandon is to go to King's Landing as a hostage along with Elbert Arryn and Robert. Ned is free to go to Winterfell but he will not be resuming his fostering in the Eyrie. Albyn Snow died in the Trial and Howland has been, once again, overlooked.

It is only the need to keep the Martells as allies that kept Princess Rhaenys in the line of inheritance; she and her mother, the Dornish Princess Elia are to accompany the Royal Family to King's Landing. From what Lyanna understands, this is a nice way of saying they'll be hostages too.

"She'll be a wife to Viserys if my wife doesn't manage to whelp him a sister." Was all the King had to say about that at the time and Lyanna hopes that the little girl is too young to understand.

They're accompanied by roughly two dozen guards to Driftmark and from then on, a ship would take them to Braavos. It feels unreal to her, like the soft vestiges of a dream she cannot wake from.

I'm alive, she tells herself every morning. At the beginning it's hard; she battles seasickness and loneliness and doesn't know which is worse. Growing up with three brothers in the warm embrace of Winterfell where everyone is friendly and loyal, Lyanna has never on her own in such a way.

The guards that the King sent with them are cold and unfriendly and the closest thing to an ally is a man she barely knows.

I'm alive, she repeats to herself, over and over again. And slowly, she learns.

There are a couple things she learns about Rhaegar Targaryen in the duration of their journey.

The first is, Brandon apparently asked him to look after her and he takes that seriously. Once the shores of Westeros fully faded from view he sets aside his moping and tries, somewhat awkwardly at first, to spend time with her. He reminds her somewhat of Ned in that aspect, a bittersweet comparison but nevertheless, she enjoys the company. She thought him stiff and cold at Harrenhal but in a private setting, he is surprisingly normal.

The second is that he likes oranges. On most days, he brings some to her cabin, trying in vain to convince her to eat them with stories that sound like something Old Nan would say to get her to wash behind the ears.

"You need to eat oranges when you're at sea or your teeth will fall out."

Lyanna looks at the fruit dubiously. Her stomach is still queasy from seasickness and the last thing she wants is to be sick again.

"I have never, in my whole life, heard of that happening to anyone."

The third is that he excels at cyvasse but is absolutely terrible at any luck based game. Sometimes it seems like he is doing great at the start but without fail, he somehow manages to lose all advantage before the end.

"I know some people are born with bad luck but in this case, I feel like the Gods must hate you personally."

He frowns at the cards as if that would wash away the shame of his tenth loss in row.

"I'm bound to win eventually."

"Sure." Lyanna teases. "Do you want to go again? We can place wagers on it."

He looks at her dubiously and raises a single pale eyebrow.

"Do you have any money?"

Lyanna, in fact, does not have any money and he refuses to bet if she doesn't, even though he has been allowed to take some of his possessions with him. That turns out to be a shame when she wins again.

They grieve separately and try their best to keep it from each other. Lyanna misses her brothers, her father and the life she's known. If his choice in wardrobe is any indication, he either grieves for Ser Arthur or he is getting ready to start a new life at Night's Watch. Though she supposes he must miss his family too.

Besides maybe his father. In all her wisdom and experience, Lyanna can't see anyone ever longing for the company of Aerys Targaryen.

The shadow the Mad King casts looms long. Even half across the world, she feels his presence on the ship in the shape of the guards. It makes her feel watched, a feeling which unsettles her enough that sleep doesn't come easy.

She knows now that back at Harrenhal she was naive to think that Rhaegar's presence has any sway, not when it comes to the King. The more she gets accustomed to that, the more grateful she feels that he decided to fight anyway.

She wonders if he regrets it now.

Braavos is unlike what she imagined. There are a thousand canals and no trees. The air is foggy and humid and it rains frequently. The guards have left them to fend for themselves there, sailing back for Driftmark that very day.

It is, all in all, a miserable place, she decides and her heart aches for the familiar sights of Winterfell. In this strange place, Lyanna longs for home even though it seems further and further from her reach with each passing day.

In contrast to the city, the Sealord's house is grand and luxurious. He owns a garden where the servants tend to flowers the likes she's never seen before. Instantly, she is charmed and it's in the garden where she spends most of her time.

The Sealord and his wife are pleasant enough to her but it's very clear it's Rhaegar they're interested in, something she is glad for because that means it's him they hound all day long, giving her a lot of free time to explore.

She isn't allowed to leave the confines of the estate but that doesn't bother her much; she doesn't want to wander the city anyway. Near the gardens, there is a little hut where the gardener stores his tools and she learns that if she climbs it, she can cross the roof and lift herself on the stone walls built around the place.

From there, she watches the people pass. Unlike Winterfell, Braavos is always chaotic. A thousand people cross the canals each day, coming from all over Planetos.

Sometimes the Sealord will welcome guests and when that happens, his First Sword accompanies him. Lyanna watches them greet the visiting merchants, sitting hidden between the great stone wall and the rooftop of the servants' quarters.

It's not particularly interesting, she muses, chewing on the inside of her mouth. But then, just as the Sealord turns to escort the guests to the house, his First Sword looks her in the eye and winks.

He shows up the next time she's taking a walk in the gardens. He is a lean, bald man with a nose that draws her attention.

"Spying girl," he calls to her, "have you seen the Sealord's cat?"

Lyanna has, in fact, not seen the cat but she is eager to help him look anyway. She scales the walls and jumps over the rooftops, nearly giggling in the excitement. The people below don't notice her when she's climbing and that makes it all the more fun.

A part of her wishes she could share this with Benjen.

When she finally spots the animal, an unassuming tomcat with exceptionally large whiskers, the sun has nearly set but the First Sword is still waiting for her.

"Syrio Forel thanks you." He bows. "The Sealord is very fond of the cat - it comes from faraway lands. Girl, can you tell what is special about it?"

Lyanna tries very hard to think of something but other than the impressive whiskers, the cat looks like every other cat she's ever seen and she tells the man as much.

"If I were the Sealord and ordered an animal from far away, I would want something more interesting. This is just a cat."

The man smiles at her.

"Girl, do you wish to learn how to dance?"

She tries to explain her lessons to Rhaegar on a rare occasion when she sees him but he seems to find it a lot less enjoyable than she does. The more she talks about the practice; standing on one leg, being blindfolded, chasing cats, the more concerned he appears.

"Are you sure you are alright with that?"

Lyanna waves him off.

"It's not like master-at-arms back at home but he's the First Sword for a reason, he knows what he's doing." She crosses the garden pathway to collapse on a bench. Her body is sore and her legs are filled with bruises but with every day, the ache at the thought of home gets a little lesser.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to train you too if I asked him." She offers, partly because she thinks it might do him good and partly because she finds the image of Rhaegar Targaryen doing backflips to be hilarious.

He snorts, sitting down beside her. "I'll pass. But please keep in mind, if you ever find you don't want to do something-"

"-If I don't want to do it, then I won't do it." Lyanna rolls her eyes. "You might have noticed that I don't do things I don't want to do."

He laughs this time, a soft sound that lights up his face and makes her flustered.

"I definitely noticed that, yes. By the time this exile ends, you'll have gone completely wild and I'll have to explain to Lord Stark what happened to his daughter."

It's only when he says that that Lyanna remembers about the exile, something which fills her with guilt. How could I forget?

"How long do you think it will take?"

"Who knows." He tells her carefully and she gets the hint. She's not stupid; she understand that the day they'll be able to go home is the day Aerys dies.

"Do you miss your home?"

"Yes." She admits softly, saying it out loud for the first time. "I miss Winterfell a lot. I miss my family, the servants, Old Nan, Hodor, the blacksmith and his son… But it's not so bad. Truthfully, I might prefer this to being sent to Storm's End."

Rhaegar looks at her consideringly.

"I can't imagine you as a Lady of some castle, but then again, I think I've seen you in a dress exactly once."

Before Harrenhal Lyanna might have been embarrassed by that but she finds it hard to care now.

"And you, do you miss your home?"

He takes his time to answer, looking over the horizon with a somber expression.

"I miss my daughter. Elia's pregnant, I've heard. She barely survived when Rhaenys was born, I hope she and the baby will be okay." With one hair, he tucks a strand of silver hair behind his ear, a sad smile crossing his lips. "I'm glad Rhaenys will have a sibling though. It's always easier when you have someone with you."

Lyanna thinks of her brothers and she's inclined to agree.

"I hope they'll be alright."

Months seem to breeze by with frightening speed and with each new day, Lyanna found herself further from the person she was. On some days, she felt as if she were made of clay, able to fit in the mold of whichever life she assumed.

She missed Benjen something fierce and she worries every day about Brandon. Her eldest brother is hot-headed to the core - how is he coping with a life at court?

On most evenings, they have dinner with the Sealord and his wife and it's during that time they hear most news from Westeros.

Princess Elia, they find out, had a son whom she named Aegon. It is unclear where he stands in the line of inheritance with his father's disinheritance and she can see that makes Rhaegar anxious.

The Sealord gives him his congratulations and his wife offers a vapid smile and some boring anecdote about children and how quick they grow up. Lyanna notices how despite the pleasant nature of the conversation, their hosts' bodies are tense and suddenly she feels on edge.

The Sealord's eyes are too sharp, like thinly wound nets cast and set to trap whatever reaction the two of them produce. Eyes darting to her companion, she finds that Rhaegar holds his fork in a white knuckled grip despite a pleasantly neutral expression he wears on his face.

The life she's gotten used to suddenly seems less mapped out than she thought.

"Are they spying on us?"

Rhaegar looks at her as if she's crazy and Lyanna purses her lips in annoyance. She's not stupid - she knows not to say it when anyone's listening. She paid attention to the movements of the guards and the servants for a week prior, deducing the perfect time to approach him.

"That other day, during dinner-"

He covers her mouth with a hand and shakes his head frantically.

It confirms what she already suspected and she feels a hot rush of betrayal. There are a thousand questions she wants to ask but what stings her the most is that he kept this from her. She feels like a stupid little girl, left to play with her dolls while the men talked business and it's a feeling she doesn't appreciate.

She throws the cards on the table.

"You can take this one."

It seems like all at once, all of her homesickness comes back in crashing waves. She has no interest in wandering the premises and more than anything, she wishes she was back in the safe confines of Winterfell.

She avoids Rhaegar like the plague. Syrio's training comes in handy as the only time when she's forced to endure his presence is at dinner, when he tries his best to communicate something to her through the power of meaningful glances alone while she stubbornly stares directly at her plate.

He's not the only one she's upset with though. She can hardly bear to look at the Sealord or his wife and her skin crawls with paranoia whenever she spots a servant nearby. Even Syrio is hard to trust; she continues to take his lessons whenever he has the time to teach her but she is on her guard all the time, a change which he notices.

"You've become better at seeing." He tells her one day. Lyanna grits her teeth.

"What does that mean?"

He balances his wooden sword carefully, inviting her to strike.

"Do you know how I became the First Sword? There were others; the other men were stronger, faster, younger, so why was Syrio Forel the best? I will tell you now. The seeing, the true seeing, that is the heart of it."

He tells her about the cat, the tomboy he had her find the first day.

"I told the Sealord, when he asked me, that I have seen tomcats like him a thousand times in the alleys of Braavos."

Swiftly, with a motion almost too fast to follow, he sidesteps and whacks her wrist with the wooden sword, making her yelp and drop her own.

"Girl, did that hurt? Every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better."

Lyanna remembers that.

Somehow, a year has passed since the last time she's seen her brothers when she finally receives some news again.

They are talking about some old song that the Sealord's wife enjoys, one filled with tragedy and doomed romance when the Sealord gives a strange smile.

"It came to my ears recently that the Seven Kingdoms got a tale of such nature recently. They say Brandon Stark got some highborn girl pregnant and His Majesty forced him to marry her. Rumor has it, his own Lord Father disinherited him for it."

Lyanna freezes in her seat, every lesson on guidance suddenly escaping from her.

"Brandon has?" She wants to say Brandon would never do that but in truth, she is not surprised. What fuels her disbelief is her father's reaction. "Do you know who his wife is?"

The man strokes his beard. "Ashara Dayne, they say. The sister to the late Sword of the Morning."

Lyanna remembers Ashara from the tourney. She was beautiful; her dark hair and her deep purple eyes had Ned blushing furiously from the moment he laid eyes on her. She also remembers her fainting when Ser Arthur fell.

"I think your story is false." She tells the Sealord. "My father would never disinherit Brandon for something like that."

Rhaegar kicks her under the table and she bites her lip to keep from wincing.

"What the hell was that?" She rounds on him the moment they excuse themselves, all of her frustration of him boiling over.

Rhaegar ignores her, walking at a pace that has her jogging to keep up, cursing her short legs.

"Hey!"

He stops suddenly and she nearly crashes into him.

"Your father would never disinherit Brandon for something like that." He parrots and she frowns.

"Yes, so? Just because yours did-"

"-Then why did he do it?" He cuts in harshly. He shook his head, pacing the hallway like a caged tiger from Sealord's menagerie.

Lyanna can only watch in confusion, her anger dying in favour of something like concern. Did the topic of disinheritance truly upset him that much?

"Was Brandon engaged to anyone?" He asks suddenly, taking her aback.

"Catelyn Tully, why?"

Something like a realisation crosses his face and he sets off again in the direction of his room.

"Hey!" Lyanna yells, stomping in frustration and running after him. "Don't keep things from me!"

"Not here." He tells her without stopping. Lyanna sighs but accepts it. As long as he doesn't keep things from her, she can tolerate waiting.

"I think your father is planning something."

Lyanna takes a step back from his accusation.

"And what made you reach this conclusion?"

He collapses across his bed like a sulky child, his hair splayed behind him.

"The disinheritance. The Tullys make a great alliance, but if the firstborn can't marry one anymore, the plan falls through. That's why my father had Brandon marry Ashara in the first place, I imagine. I doubt he cares for her honour. The fact that Lord Stark decided to counter that is worrying."

It sits ill with her.

Would he sacrifice Brandon like that? With all the time spent apart, Lyanna doesn't know anymore. All she has are little scraps of news, far from enough to paint a full picture.

"Do you think there'll be a war?" She asks quietly and Rhaegar looks up at her with melancholy contemplation.

"There was always going to be a war from the moment the King accused you of treason. The Lords were never going to stand that kind of behaviour. Burning commoners - they'll tolerate that much but the moment it was one of them, there was bound to be conflict."

It hits her suddenly, how close she came to death that day.

"Is that why you decided to help? To prevent an uprising?" She demands, feeling strangely hurt.

He sits up and she finds herself face to face with him. There is a sudden intensity to his eyes, making Lyanna worry she offended him.

"I helped because you are worth it. There are very few people who would have done what you did - the court doesn't allow much for kindness or bravery. When you find a treasure, you don't throw it away."

A treasure, Lyanna finds her ears burn. Awkwardly, she jumps backwards.

"Besides," he continues, in a voice so soft it feels more like something he just couldn't keep to himself, "I didn't want to watch an innocent person burn to death. That's why I moved to Dragonstone as soon as I could."

"Would he really have me burned?" She's heard the rumors of course, but back then it didn't occur to her to worry about that. Now she's wondering if maybe she should have.

Rhaegar grimaces. "Probably. Are you done ignoring me now?"

Just like that, the mood is broken and Lyanna remembers why she was mad at him to begin with.

"If you're done keeping things from me. I'm not a child, you know. We're stuck here together and we might be for a while. I won't have you acting as if I'm not important enough to be involved. Or like I'm stupid."

"You aren't exactly subtle." He points out. "Though looking back it clearly didn't matter. They knew the moment you realised and it didn't change anything, so it seems like I really was worrying over nothing. I'm sorry."

It's not the greatest apology she's ever heard but it's sincere so she'll take it.

"I'm sorry too." She forces out. "For ignoring you. Even though you deserved it."

That draws a smile.

"You are horrible at apologising."

"I think it would be best if we left."

Lyanna looks up from the cyvasse board, not expecting that thought by all means, she should have realised he wouldn't torture her by suggesting a game for no reason.

"Where would we go?"

Rhaegar sits with his legs crossed, considering the position of her pieces thoughtfully.

"You just lost another elephant." He informs her because he is, first of all, insufferable. "Further East is the only option really. A place like Lys or Volantis."

The Sealord hasn't given them any snippets of news since and with every passing day things seem tenser. Rhaegar worries that if there is a rebellion brewing in Westeros, the King would send someone after them.

It's not a farfetched idea. Aerys is certainly paranoid enough to assume they are involved and clever enough to want to remove a potential figurehead of the rebellion. From what she understands, she and Rhaegar might have become martyrs for the Lords of Westeros, with the exile everyone knows to be unfair.

The thought annoys her a little because it feels like people are forgetting that the two of them are not dead yet.

"When do we leave?"

Her last session with Syrio is bittersweet. She wishes she could stay longer; there is little doubt in her mind that an opportunity like that won't come along anytime soon. Another reason is that she might have become a bit attached to the man; he is funny in his own odd way.

More than anything, Lyanna is tired of leaving people behind.

"Girl," Syrio calls to her when she turns to leave, an odd glint in his eye, "buy a sword. Not a Westerosi one, no, you need something lighter and more slender."

She tilts her head.

"Where am I supposed to get it?"

As most days, he gives her no answer.

They leave when the Sealord is meeting with the magisters of Braavos. It's exhilarating, to be able to leave the grounds of the estate after all this time, hurrying through alleyways with barely more than the clothes on their backs.

Good riddance, she thinks towards the couple who hosted her for the past year.

Finding a ship is easier than she assumed it would be. There is a small merchant boat set to leave for Pentos and the Captain takes one look at Rhaegar and allows them on board, but not before making sure both of them remember his name well enough to be able to say it in their sleep.

It must be nice to be a Targaryen, Lyanna thinks because if it was just her, there was no chance anyone would have recognised her as a Warden's daughter. Nobility or not, she looked like any other girl.

They go to Myr and then to Lys. It's not safe to stop for long and more than that, they don't have the money they could live on once they leave the hospitality of the sailors.

Lyanna doesn't like thinking about that, but Rhaegar seems to be determined to bring it up as often as he can. He frets and he worries and in the end, he finds no real solution besides trying to find work in the city, something that has been painfully clear from the beginning.

The problem is, neither of them have ever needed to work a day in their lives. When it comes to skills and experience, they have little and once they've landed in Lys, even Rhaegar's Valyrian appearance seems to be less special, something he somehow finds delight in.

"It's a good place to hide." He declares and Lyanna sighs wearily. She thought getting off the ship would be a joyful experience but the climate in Lys is hot and humid, making her dizzy and tired. The tunic and breeches she has brought with her from Braavos are too warm for the climate and they stick to her sweaty body.

Compared to Braavos, Lys is far livelier, filled with merchants and singers. Palm trees are swaying gently in the slight wind that blows from the sea. They say that class doesn't matter in Lys nearly as much as wealth does; as much as she hates the weather, Lyanna has to agree that if they are trying to build a living somewhere, this is the most suitable of the Free Cities.

The money that Rhaegar brought from Westeros doesn't help them much here, since the Lyseni use their own money. There are bankers who are willing to exchange it but it's immediately clear they are going to receive less than they give.

"This is so stupid." Lyanna complains after the fifth banker they visit. She's thirsty and tired and her feet are aching from all the walking.

"We'll take the next one, if he isn't worse than the previous ones." Rhaegar promises her placatingly. Unlike her, the heat doesn't seem to bother him much.

Southerners, she thinks viciously and hopes that one day, she will see the tables turn on him.

Other than the money, he brought his crown but in an uncharacteristic bout of stubbornness, he refuses to sell it and Lyanna gives up on trying.

"I'll sell it if we really need it." He defends.

To her relief, the next banker does not, in fact, offer worse wares and it's not long before they end up with a small room above an inn in a rundown part of town. The walls seem to be crumbling dangerously and Lyanna doesn't trust the roof not to leak if there's a rainstorm but at this point, she is far too tired to care.

The inside is not much prettier but it's blessedly cold compared to the sweltering heat outside. She sits and kicks off her shoes with a sigh.

Once again, she finds her thoughts straying to her family in Westeros. She wonders if Brandon's child with Ashara Dayne has been born yet. A pessimistic part of her wonders if she will ever see them again.

The problem with there being just one bed, Lyanna learns, is that no matter which direction she faces when she falls asleep, she wakes up with a mouth full of hair.

"We need to do something about your hair." She tells Rhaegar the next morning.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"It keeps getting in my mouth! Do you toss it around in your sleep or something?"

He frowns. "It tangles if I lie on it."

Gods help me.

"It will have to go then." She declares. "It was about time, how are we supposed to hide if everyone can recognise you on sight?"

Then again, she supposes this is the same man who had at least a hundred rubies decorating his armour despite claiming to hate fighting. Rhaegar does not give much of himself away, she understood that much fairly early on, but the things she does learn about him are full of contradictions. In that sense, he is unlike any person she's ever met.

As much as she'd love if he got over himself and dropped his obsession with privacy, she can't deny it's a little bit like a puzzle and that part of the fun is in the challenge.

When you find a treasure, you don't throw it away, a memory whispers and she turns away, suddenly flustered.

Despite her bravado, she is actually sad to see his hair go. She cuts it somewhere between jaw and neck length, just as she used to do for her brothers.

"It feels like I'm actually committing treason." She jokes.

"It's just hair, it'll grow back." He sounds displeased about it though.

They don't manage to find work but it turns out Rhaegar makes a good street performer once he gets his hands on a lute. Lyanna does not want to know how much he paid for it but so far it seems to yield profit.

It's enough to pay for food and their room and even some new clothes for both of them. Lyanna has never worn silk before and she finds herself fascinated with the feeling, constantly spinning around to make it twirl through the air.

It helps with the heat but she also finds herself bored through the day. Rhaegar spends most of the day performing on the streets and when he does get back, he complains about his voice being gone and doesn't speak much.

It almost makes her miss that house in Braavos. For all it was a cage, at least she had Syrio there to keep her company and the training to keep herself busy. For the lack of anything better to do, she practices the motions he's taught her by herself. She finds a stick and spends hours beating the soul out of a palm tree.

With the slave trade running so rampant in the city, she doesn't dare stray far and whenever she does wander the streets by herself, she does so with her hackles and her guard raised. If nothing else, Syrio taught her a thing or two about seeing; she can recognise better now, when someone is safe to talk with and when someone is bad news. In this new life, that skill is invaluable.

Lyseni nights, like Lyseni days, are lively. It's during the night that the pleasure gardens operate in full swing and the streets fill with people seeking entertainment. The city and its atmosphere are slowly growing on her and often Lyanna finds herself unwilling to go to sleep yet.

The inn beneath the room is the place she goes when that happens. It's one of the few of its kind that don't engage into side business with whores and pleasure slaves, something Lyanna appreciates for the sake of her own state of mind. The walls aren't exactly thick and it's already embarrassing enough to share a bed with a man that isn't her family without having to listen to people going at it at the same time.

As it is, sometimes when she wakes up in the middle of the night from being too warm, she finds herself harbouring dangerous thoughts. Like a fire that eats from within, she finds herself consumed until she drifts back to sleep and even then, the ideas often follow her into her dreams.

She attributes this to Lys itself; you can't spend the whole day observing pleasure gardens and whores on the street and then sleep next to a beautiful man and not wonder what it would be like to be fucked by him.

Suddenly, Lyanna understood Brandon a lot better than she ever did before.

I hope you're happy with Ashara, brother.

Unlike Brandon though, Lyanna liked to think she had some degree of self control. She did her best to bury her desires, knowing it would be awkward for her and Rhaegar both if she acted on it.

In the end, it happens like this:

Busy as she keeps herself, Lyanna isn't blind to the fact Rhaegar's mood seems to be growing worse and worse the longer they stay there. She understands it's related to the work and not the city itself.

He figured out that the key is getting to a good spot on one of the city squares early, so he usually leaves early in the morning, before Lyanna even wakes up and by the time he gets back, it's already late and he is tired enough to go straight to sleep. Repeating that day after day must get old really fast, even if he normally does enjoy singing.

Still, she misses the company. There's people in the inn below she talks with; sailors and merchants and the fat innkeeper with his young daughter. Like most highborn Ladies, Lyanna was taught High Valyrian growing up, which allows her to learn the Lyseni dialect quickly and truthfully, they're not bad company. The people of Lys, she discovers, are very direct and she finds herself greatly expanding on her collection of crass jokes.

But nice as they are, she didn't travel half across the world with any of them. She didn't face death with them, nor do they know anything about her besides the fact that she lives upstairs. She's careful enough about that.

So after a couple weeks, she puts her foot down.

"Take a day off. We have enough saved that one day won't hurt."

Having just woken up, Rhaegar is cranky enough that he won't listen on principle.

"If you haven't noticed, we can't live from day to day. There's a million things that can happen. One of us can fall ill or maybe we'll need to move suddenly or-"

"-or maybe one of us wants to take a day off and have some fun for once."

It's exactly the wrong thing to say.

"Is this fun to you? Having to live like this, unable to go home and just waiting to discover there's assassins sent after us?"

"Yes, because I don't intend to live my life in misery just because your father is insane." Having also just woken up specifically to catch him before he left, Lyanna is also cranky enough to not be taking any attitude.

He shakes his head at her in disbelief.

"It would be a wonderful world if we were all like you."

In the end, he refuses to listen and she mourns the fact she woke up early for nothing .

The built up frustration festers and when she stops by the inn to chat with the regulars, she gets a horrible impulse to make the most of her father being miles and miles away and get horribly, terribly drunk. After all, who's going to stop her - Rhaegar ? Fat chance.

And it turns out, drunk her has some terrible ideas.

She hears him get back at some point and through the fuzziness in her mind, Lyanna remembers the failed mission from this morning.

"Come dance with me!" She preens from the doorway, leaning against the wood. Not for balance, she tells herself, just to look more casual.

"I'm going to sleep." He tells her from the force of habit, not looking from the orange he's peeling. It seems to hit him belatedly and he squints, trying to see in the embarrassingly poor light of the one candle they own.

"Are you drunk ?"

"I'm having fun." She tells him. "You should try it."

"It must be easy for you, playing around all day long."

"Yeah." She agrees breathily. "It's pretty easy. So, are you coming? I'll go by myself if you're going to be a grouch."

"You're impossible." He tells her but he does accompany her back, unwilling to leave her wandering around drunk and alone, something she would find sweet, if she was more sober. But even drunk, she likes that he doesn't try to tell her to stay and she tells him as much, having lost all self restraint.

"Hi boys!" She waves at the sailors, hooking Rhaegar beneath his elbow. "I'm back."

"Another drink, Lady Maege?" The innkeeper asks her and she giggles.

"Don't mind if I do."

"And your man?"

That makes her cough.

"Oh, he's not my man. He's a Prince."

That earns her an elbow to the side. "Oww." She whines, stepping on his foot in revenge.

"She's joking. I'm her brother." Even drunk, Lyanna can tell that's the worst excuse anyone has made in the history of excuses. The two of them look nothing alike. The innkeeper smartly decides not to question it.

The rest of the night is a blur. She's fairly certain she bullied Rhaegar into a drinking competition at some point and she remembers dancing, his hands on her hips as she twirled around laughing until she tripped over her own feet and lost balance. She thinks she might have thrown up afterwards and that might be how they suddenly ended up outside, walking through the warm Lyseni night but the memory is fuzzy.

Lyanna is admittedly having some trouble with balance at that point but more than that, she finds herself enjoying his arm around her enough to play it up a little.

There's a big gap in her memory there and they must have been somewhere else at some point because she recalls teasing Rhaegar for being a sad drunk but the memories afterwards don't contain much melancholy at all.

She remembers it in flashes; skin against skin and warm lips on hers, warmth in the pit of her belly and smiling breathlessly until her cheeks hurt.

The next morning comes crashing upon her with a headache and nausea that has her scared to even move for a bit. It is absolutely miserable.

Her only vindication is that Rhaegar looks equally in pain because misery loves company. He's also very apologetic, looking so guilty she feels like she's supposed to consider her life ruined.

"I told you before, I don't do things I don't want to do." Lyanna grumbles, massaging her temples. "The only thing I'm upset about is that I barely remember it."

It's not crossing a line of proper behaviour as much as it's leaping over it in full sprint but she doesn't care. It'll be two years since she's left and the confines of Westeros with their rules and their reprimands and corsets are further and further behind her each day.

Lyanna doesn't want to return to that.

Drinking some water and forcing herself to eat breakfast helps with the aftermath of drinking too much. Lyanna still feels as if she's been trampled by a herd of wild horses but some spirit returns to her regardless.

For the first time in a while, the two of them talk. It's a tiny bit awkward to figure out where they stand with each other but it's clear that what happened last night was something they both wanted.

It's freeing to have it in the open like that.

"So calling yourself my brother, was that supposed to be a hint? I know what you people do with your siblings." She can't help but tease.

"Please don't make me think of your actual brothers right now." He pleads in return.

Despite the headache, Lyanna can't stand to stay caged in that room forever so once the sun is at its peak, she makes the most of the day and drags Rhaegar to all of her favourite spots. She doesn't know if he decided to stay because he feels under the weather or if it was because of what happened between the two of them, but either way she won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

There's a fountain near the port, built from white marble that shines so bright she needs to squint. The water in it isn't drinkable but the sound of it hitting the surface of the pond beneath is comforting so it's a place she visits often.

Today, she jumps on the marble, balancing precariously as if she was still doing Syrio's training. Rhaegar gives her his hand to keep her from falling in and cracking her head open and she uses it to pull him closer, feeling bold.

It's the first time she kisses him in broad daylight and she's certain she doesn't do it well but it's probably still better than the kisses from last night.

For a moment, she fears he's going to pull away but instead, he leans in, snaking an arm behind her and lifting her from the edge.

"Careful, you could fall." His breath tickles her ear and she giggles stupidly, her face heating up.

"How terrible would that be." She agrees. "You might just need to keep a hold on me."

After getting a taste for it, she can't keep her hands off him. It's like a missing piece she didn't know was missing, an itch she finally learned to scratch. She waits with impatience for him to get back in the evenings and she thinks he craves it too because he makes a point of returning earlier.

This time, he barely has the time to toss off his shirt before she's sitting on his lap and pushing him onto the mattress below.

"Woman, don't you ever have enough?" He teases her, his dark eyes tracing the outlines of her body. He looks good like this, lying beneath her, better even than he looked in all the elaborate clothes he wore when he was a Prince.

They say love is blind but Lyanna Stark sure isn't. She knows there's women, highborn Ladies, even, who'd kill to be in her place right now.

"I told you that I love to ride, didn't I? If it bothers you, you can buy me a horse."

"Poor horse." He comments dryly.

The comment earns him a bite he spends the next couple days awkwardly trying to cover whenever he goes out.

It feels like this is the final step that solidifies something in Lyanna. Most of her life, she has been very aware of all the things she didn't want to do in her life but for the first time, there's a clear vision of what she wants her life to be.

Sometimes, she finds herself remembering Robert Baratheon. She'll never be his wife now, that much Lyanna is certain of. The girl who would have gone along with her family's wishes is long gone and the woman standing in her place is someone new.

Lyanna doesn't even think she would want to marry Rhaegar if she could, precious though he has grown to be to her. There is a certain freedom in belonging to no one, of having only the name that is her own and nobody else's. Him being her lover is fine with her.

She even thinks she would be fine with just this life they have in Lys. It's far from luxurious and the city is not safe but it's lively, people changing from day to day. She misses meat; most of their meals are simple and meat is one of the things they don't get to enjoy as often as she is used to from her life of a highborn Lady. She also misses Northern climate, though she adjusted to the heat of Lys better than she thought possible.

It's peaceful. She feels at peace, like her chase and uncertainties are just distant shadows. These days, Lyanna feels like she could do anything.

The news arrive from the merchants, spreading through the city like wildfyre. The people of Lys don't keep up with what is happening in Westeros any more than people in Westeros keep up with events in Essos, but certain things are interesting enough to be passed around anyway.

The rebellion blazing across the continent is one thing, but there is news that concerns her more.

Rhaella Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, has died giving birth to a daughter.

Lyanna catches wind of it when she's buying fruit at the marketplace and she nearly drops the bag of oranges she's holding.

The Queen hasn't been at Harrenhal so Lyanna has never even seen her before, but the people talked and from their stories, Rhaella Targaryen was a woman with a sad life. Surviving the fire that killed most of her family, being forced to marry a brother who grew to be cruel to her and losing most of her children, except two and now a third one, whom she will never see grow up.

Despite never meeting her, Lyanna felt for the woman.

She finds Rhaegar in the most secluded part of the port where the fishermen docked their smaller boats overnight. It's not hard to figure he would go there; if you want some time alone, there aren't many places in Lys you can go to.

He is sitting on the planks with his feet in the water and his boots and lute besides him, eyes following the line ships entering and leaving.

Lyanna swallows. For all her confidence, she doesn't know what to say to him. Rhaegar is a private person; he doesn't grieve like most people do. He guards his feelings like treasure, keeping them inside himself in favour of flawless composure.

For all she knows it must have pained him, she hasn't seen him mourn the life he left behind. Maybe, if she wasn't mad at him then, she might have been privy to more when Aegon was born but that moment has gone and passed and Lyanna knows not to regret things that aren't lost yet.

She sits beside him instead, drawing her knees to her chest.

"What was she like?" She asks after a bit.

He tilts his head back, the sun catching in his dark eyes and making them shine purple.

"Dutiful and clever. She was always kind to me."

"Most mothers are." Lyanna assumes. Her own mother died long ago and the memories of her are vague and fleeting like the soft essence of candlelight.

"She didn't need to be. Royal children aren't raised the same way children of Lords are. Maesters, nurses and masters-at-arms have a greater role to play than our parents do."

"That must be lonely."

He shakes his head.

"No, I'm thanking the Gods that that's what it was like for me. Horrible as it sounds, I think I would be suffering more if I loved my father like a son should." He kicks the water, making droplets fly. "I wanted better for Rhaenys and I hoped I'd get to know my mother better once he was gone."

Now he would never get that chance.

"Things have changed so much, I don't even know what to think anymore." He says later, startling her from the state of nearly dozing off.

"What do you mean?" Lyanna is confused.

Rhaegar sighs, his melancholy painting his face into something he's worn so often in the early days.

"My family has a penchant for prophecy. There are scriptures that say that's what brought us to Westeros in the first place, centuries ago. ' The Prince that was Promised will bring the Dawn' is what they say and a woodswitch told my grandparents that he will be born from my parents' line, which is why they were forced to marry in the first place. I thought it would be me, but…"

He trails off and Lyanna waits patiently for him to continue.

"It might be Aegon. Years ago I would have been certain about it, but lately, I've been wondering if it's all even worth it. But how selfish would it be, to know about a disaster happening and doing nothing about it, when the only reason I was even brought into this world was to serve that purpose?"

"I don't think it would be selfish." She tells him, taking his hand between hers, gently trailing his knuckles with her fingertips. "It's very vague isn't it? If you take action without knowing what you're doing, you can do more damage than good."

He frowns. "My mother suffered her whole life for this prophecy. And remember, at Harrenhal, when Lord Howland told us fate brought him there? And then Arthur-" His face contorts into something pained. "I thought, if that's my duty, if it's the will of the Gods and something good… so why does it bring us nothing but pain? If we're meant to be doing the right thing, why is it made to be a challenge?"

Lyanna has no answer for that.

"I think, if something is meant to be, it'll happen. You worry too much." She is no Howland Reed; the matters of Gods and fate are not close to her but she knows that much.

"If you believe that your family's prophecy is strong and true enough to have been passed on for generations, don't you think that it'll take more than that to disturb its flow? If the Gods have a plan for you, they'll see it through, no matter what you do. At Harrenhal, even if you didn't personally support Howland joining the champions, he might have still ended up joining if nobody else volunteered. If it was his fate to kill Ser Arthur and if Ser Arthur's fate was to die that day, then it would have happened regardless."

Rhaegar considers that. She can nearly see him thinking.

"Arthur didn't deserve to die like that. He was so good , one of the few truly good men. My mother deserved a better life too."

"They did." She agreed, though she didn't know either of them. "But you can't do anything about that now."

"But isn't it unfair? They got that and I'm here, with you. What right do I have to be selfish?" The question rolls from his lips like a whispered admission. "I've always been so certain about everything, but then I met you. I've never met anyone so alive, it seems to come so easy for you. There's a whole perspective I've never thought to consider."

Being Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna learns, is very lonely. He excelled at everything he did because he would accept nothing less, broke no rules and caused no offense, but those are all traits he chose to embody to play the part he was born into. Beneath the performance, the man is just as flawed and human as the rest of them because he could have never been anything else. Accepting that comes slowly for him and it's that exact problem that draws him to Lyanna.

It's just his luck that Lyanna never backs down and doesn't look back. She understands his feelings, even if he doesn't know how to explain himself, because she faced a similar struggle.

The two of them didn't have much happiness to find when they were in Westeros, even if the lives they led have been more comfortable.

She remembers waiting in the Great Hall of Harrenhal and listening to the whispers of the Lords and Ladies who had come to watch the fiasco unfold. She remembers hating them.

"Let's never go back." The words slip from her mouth when they're walking back, hands intertwined.

"What about your family?"

Lyanna has thought about this before so the answer came easy.

"Even if Harrenhal didn't happen, I would have been married off in a year's time. I'll miss them for the rest of my life but it makes no difference, here or in Westeros, I'd lose them either way."

At least here, she keeps her agency. She tries to imagine going back to how things were before and finds out she can't.

Rhaegar humms. "I've been thinking about it, since I've found out about Aegon. I don't think I can go back even once my father dies. Aegon's claim is going to be fragile, unless the King explicitly declares him his heir. In cases like that, the number of supporters decides who would be king. Between him and ViserysI don't want to split his supporters further by presenting myself as a third option."

He doesn't sound too happy about it and Lyanna doesn't press. There might be hypocrisy in hating the royal life but exposing his son to it still but ultimately, whether because of the prophecy or because he knows his little brother too well, Rhaegar is convinced Aegon must be the one to inherit.

"Lys might not be safe though. If the news of war already reached us here, that means that the King can as well." She guesses, remembering their time in Braavos. It makes her sad; she likes Lys.

It's not forever, she tells herself, I can always come back here.

There's lands stretching to the East as far as the eye can see and further. She will always remember her time here fondly but already, she is excited at seeing new places. The excitement of those first couple days spent exploring is incomparable to anything else and she wants to relive it over and over, until she's mapped every part of the map.

Rhaegar agrees with her assessment.

"Where would you want to go?"

Her son is born in Yin, one of the great port cities of Yi Ti, half a year later.

The labour is complicated and painful. If it weren't for the local medicine woman, she might have died, Rhaegar tells her later. She apparently scared him half to death and he insists on staying in Yin for at least a couple months so she can recover.

Her baby is the most precious thing she's ever seen, red faced and ugly as he is. Rhaegar snorts when she voices that thought.

"All newborns are like that. Just wait until he starts teething, you'll be missing the days when he was all wrinkled."

Never let it be said that he wasn't good at prophesying disasters to come but Lyanna can't keep a smile off her face anyway.

Picking a name is a long, exhausting process.

Both of them agree that it shouldn't be a Targaryen name; not only is the baby all her so it would sound silly but the best thing one can do for a Targaryen bastard is to not draw attention to the fact they're Targaryen bastards.

"Brandon." She tries out initially but Rhaegar vetoes it.

"I don't want to think of your brother every time I refer to our son." It's a valid objection because Brandon is terrifying and he promised Brandon he would take care of her, an exchange that probably didn't include taking her up as a lover.

Besides, she tells him, if she names one son after her oldest brother, she'll need at least two more to honour the other two as well and after the way this one's birth went, they agreed on no more children.

In the end, the name she picks is a simple one, unassuming and popular in the North as well as most other parts of the Seven Kingdoms. It's not a heritage name passed on through either of their families because more than anything, she wants for her son to be his own person before he is anything else.

"Jon then." She decides and that's the end of it.

Rhaegar ends up selling his crown and buying a house on the outskirts of the city, far away enough that they can set up a small stable and a henhouse and close enough that he can find work in the city. Proper work, this time, because he is sick of singing, a statement she never thought would come out of his mouth.

He buys her a horse and Lyanna has never been happier to receive a gift. Compared to the horse she got from her Father for her nameday, the mare she owns now is slow and ugly but Lyanna loves her anyway. She is a patient, gentle thing and she makes Jon giggle when she eats carrots out of his hand.

The older he grows, the more Jon takes after her and she loves him for it, clings to a little piece of home she has with her even this far away. There are a couple of things about him that are different though. His eyes are darker grey, nearly black while hers are the colour of steel and while her hair is stubbornly straight, his is wavy. It also, to her annoyance and Rhaegar's gleeful vindication, tangles easily. Combing through it is thus a battle that she entrusts to him because Jon is a sulky thing at that age and capable of holding a grudge for longer than a toddler should.

Somehow, they don't end up moving. Lyanna learns weaving from a kind old woman who lives nearby and she takes it up quickly. The additional profit helps considerably and it allows her to shower Jon with more toys than he could possibly want for.

"He's going to grow up spoiled." Rhaegar warns her as if he doesn't play a heavy part in the spoiling. He loves his son as if trying to make up for the two children he cannot. Currently, he's trying to teach Jon to play an instrument, somewhat unsuccessfully because the little boy has no patience for such things, nor does he have much talent but it doesn't matter because the whole thing is just an excuse to spend time together.

"Good. If he doesn't, I've failed as a mother."

She also orders herself a sword, the kind that Syrio suggested for her. A part of her wishes she could have continued her training with him; she wants to know how good she could have become.

She teaches Jon sometimes, starting with the basics, like balancing on one leg and guessing her location blindfolded. With his disposition, she was concerned he would take after his father and not care for swords but to her delight, he's eager to learn.

She goads Rhaegar into practicing with her too sometimes, just so he doesn't get rusty. Though he doesn't find much joy in the sport itself, Lyanna knows how to make it interesting for him. It just so happens that it leaves them with some explaining to do when a neighbour comes by at strange hours to ask to borrow the horse.

At that moment, both of them heavily consider moving again.

When Jon is five, they receive the news that the war in Westeros ended. King Aerys was killed by Jaime Lannister, something Lyanna struggles to wrap her head around based on her only memory of the Lannister boy.

The Mad King's successor is little Aegon, with the matters of the Realm being handled by Queen Mother and the Small Council until he comes of age.

She stays up that night, wondering about her brothers and father, praying they all survived the war.

Five years later, Benjen finds her. It's by sheer dumb luck or perhaps the will of the Gods that he comes to her house to buy fabric for a new coat. Or perhaps, she muses lately, it's because he doesn't speak the local language and he's been directed to the only person in the business who speaks the Common Tongue.

The moment he shows at the door, she drops the cup of tea she's holding in disbelief.

"Lya?"

"Ben." She breathes and then she is laughing and crying and throwing herself around him. He's grown so much since she's last seen him; lean and tall, he towers over her now and he picks her up and spins her around with ease.

"Mother?" Jon runs in to see what's happening.

Lyanna chuckles when Benjen puts her down, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Right," she says, "Ben, meet Jon."

Benjen, bless his soul, doesn't ask unnecessary questions nor does he have any judgement for her or Jon. Once he gets over his shock, he takes to the boy warmly, telling him about Winterfell and the places he's been.

It's the first contact Jon has had with any member of his parents' family and she hopes it doesn't light a curiosity in him. She is very much not ready for that conversation.

"So you and the Prince…?" Her brother asks once she sends the boy back to finish brushing the horse. "How did that happen?"

"Well," Lyanna takes a sip of tea, freshly brewed in a brand new cup, "it's been a long exile."

Benjen snorts. "Evidently." Then he grows serious, a somberness to his face that she doesn't remember from when he was a boy. "We assumed you were dead, that the Mad King got to you or that something else happened that made you disappear. Not even the Spider's Little Birds could find you."

She pauses.

"The Spider worked for Aerys, did he not? If he could not find us, that was for the best. We went this far East to shake him off."

Still, a part of her aches for her brothers and the pain she must have caused them.

"What brings you so far from home though?" She asks, changing the topic.

"I was looking for you." Benjen tells her, swirling the tea in his cup. "I never believed you died like that. There'd have been some news or a body and none of the men Aerys sent knew anything. I figured either you are really good at hiding, or you went somewhere beyond Lord Varys' reach."

Lyanna's mouth forms an o of surprise.

"You went looking for me?"

"Always." He tells her and it makes her frantically wipe at her eyes all over again.

Once Rhaegar returns from the business he had with a spice merchant, Benjen talks about what has happened in Winterfell since they've been gone and Lyanna soaks up the information like a sponge.

"Brandon's first daughter with Ashara was stillborn, but they had two more children, both girls. Father says that the Gods are punishing Brandon for all the skirts he got into when he was younger." Lyanna laughs at that, trying to envision the poor men who would one day have to ask for her brother's blessing.

"Ned had three children with fourth on the way the last I've heard but for all I know, he's up to five of them by now, it's been a while since I was able to stay somewhere long enough to receive letters. His oldest two take after Cat, but little Arya reminds us all of you."

"Here's to Catelyn Tully then." She tries to envision the proper Lady she's met at Harrenhal dealing with a wild child like she herself once was and finds the results terribly amusing. "How are she and Ned getting along? It's very awkward, what happened. Brandon was supposed to marry Catelyn and Ned liked Ashara."

Benjen laughs.

"They've warmed up to each other. It really was a bit tense at the beginning though. Cat still barely tolerates Brandon and Ashara. Ned gave him the cold shoulder for a long time but they're pretty much back to normal by now. Also, he built Cat a sept in Winterfell. She brought in a Septa for the girls, you'd hate her."

"Gods, he really is soft for her then." Lyanna shakes her head. "I'm fairly certain if I were to step in a sept these days, the Seven would smite me down upon entry."

"There's plenty of unmarried mothers in the Seven Kingdoms, you know." Her brother looks at her questiongly. "You could always come back one day."

"Maybe." She says, unconvinced. "I'm happy here though, and it's safer for Jon to be far away from the Red Keep."

He also tells them about the Royal Family. Lord Rickard took part in the Small Council in the first couple years of Aegon's reign so Benjen found himself privy to more information than any of the passing merchants.

"They say Princess Rhaenys has an exceedingly sharp wit. She likes to busy herself with old scrolls in the library. She requested to be given your former chambers as her residence and not even Queen Mother could convince her to move to Maidenvault."

"She always enjoyed listening to old stories." Rhaegar does nothing to disguise the longing in his voice. She squeezes his arm under the table and he squeezes it back.

"The King is a good child, my father said, but prone to anger. He has a habit of flipping the cyvasse board when he loses a game, which annoys his sister a lot. Queen Mother has been said to claim he has his uncle's temper."

"Ah." Rhaegar nods in understanding, smiling fondly. "Oberyn or Viserys?"

"I thought you said Viserys was a sweet child though." At least, Lyanna is fairly certain that was what he said. It was so long ago when he told her about his family.

"Prince Viserys is… unpredictable ." Benjen tells them. "Many agree he has the superior claim but that he would make a poor king. He's spent too long under Aerys' influence, Father said and it made him fickle and vain. He mostly spends time on Dragonstone these days."

"His sister is a different story though. Daenerys Stormborn, she is called. Queen Elia considers her a second daughter. She's a lovely girl, by all accounts and the King and the Princess are both quite fond of her."

"Daenerys." Rhaegar tests out. "It's a good name. Did my mother choose it?"

"So they say. The late Queen spent her last days on Dragonstone with Viserys."

"I see. I hope she found some peace there. I always liked it better than King's Landing."

Benjen ends up staying with them for two months before he leaves. The three of them accompany him to the docks to see him off, Jon trying his best to look like he isn't about to cry but Lyanna isn't fooled. His lower lip is trembling and he has the same sullen expression he always wears when he is upset. He's grown attached to the youngest Stark, even during his short stay and it pulls at her heartstrings, making her question her decisions.

He's still sulking when Benjen pulls him in for a hug.

"Don't give your mother trouble, alright? And practice your swordsmanship."

Jon mumbles something incomprehensible, sneakily wiping his eyes.

"Will you come back?"

"One day." Benjen promises, ruffling his hair.

Lyanna is next to say goodbye, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

"Travel safely! And say hello to everyone from me and give them those letters, okay? Also, definitely come back one day. Chances are we'll still be living here but you should hurry anyway. I might get bored if you take too long."

She spent a couple days agonizing over what to write to her family, eventually settling on giving each of them a separate letter. It was hard to explain why she chose to stay even after her exile ended in a way that they would understand and that didn't mention Jon but she thinks she managed.

Benjen kisses her on the cheek and ruffles her hair too, looming over her like the beanpole he is.

"Of course. I'll try to keep Brandon from jumping on the first ship to make you a single mother."

"Appreciated." Rhaegar comments dryly. Lyanna knows he also entrusted Benjen with something to deliver for him. He showed her the old book he bought for Rhaenys, a collection of Rhoynish tales that looked one good shake away from falling apart. She doesn't know if he added anything to that but in any case, his amends are his own to make.

They watch the ship sail off, waving until it nearly vanishes from view.

Then, Lyanna challenges Jon to a race back to their house, laughing as they leave Rhaegar in the dust.

It's not, at the end of the day, a life she ever planned for herself but with what she has right now, she's nothing but satisfied.