Author's note:
I will rarely if ever do an author's note. Just an FYI.
But I felt it necessary to say that this is my first story and something I've had in my head for a long while. It is Robb/OC but he won't be around for several chapters as I think it's important to establish my OC as her own person and lay the foundation for why she acts and thinks in certain ways. Feel free to PM if you have questions about families, history, background, etc. that seems unclear because I am taking some liberties. I'd greatly appreciate it if you left reviews as I would love to hear feedback but please be kind.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
'I hate this city. It stinks.' She thinks to herself as she stops at the city gate for her sworn sword to catch up to her after she had raced off on Syrax. She had resigned herself to taking her last breath of fresh air hours ago, long before they had even been in sight of King's Landing. Thankfully, Elizabeth only needed to be here for a month or so before she could leave again for her brother's wedding back home in Oldtown.
Oldtown was a city that could be enjoyed. It had been impeccably planned and structured. One didn't have to worry about where they stepped and it smelled infinitely better. It had its fair share of poor people, but they were taken care of far better than the lowborn here in King's Landing. Her grandfather had upheld the traditions of charitable work that her family had practiced for generations. It was one that was heavily instilled in her and she cared for passionately, not just out of duty, but her own volition. She used to go with her mother to the orphanages and make sure they were well-fed and clothed and give them toys.
By the gods, she missed her family and home. Lizzie had spent the past few months without anyone she could confide in and it had taken its toll on her.
She watched as the merchants and small-folk pass by glancing in curiosity at the highborn lady all by herself at one of the gates to the city. Lizzie gave them a cheery smile and waved at a pair of children who rode by with their feet dangling off the side of a cart they rode. They returned the wave and smiled with all the enthusiasm one can expect from youth. She chuckled and continued to sit there, allowing her horse to catch her breath after the long gallop she'd just put her through.
Finally, her knight appeared.
"Honestly, Ser Egan, I thought you were supposed to be my protector. You can't very well protect me if you're a whole league behind me, can you?" She teased.
Ser Egan snorted as his horse trotted up and she moved next to him, "Forgive me for saying so, my lady but arrogance is not a good look for you. Besides on that horse of yours, few could even dream of catching you. The only time I'm not needed is when you're on the wretched horse."
Lizzie could do nothing but laugh good-naturedly and making the small folk pause and admire the young and beautiful highborn lady.
'They think I'm just some highborn lady enjoying her day, free of the worries. Oh, how I wish that were the truth.'
When she was younger, she used to sneak away from the High Tower to go out and play with the lowborn children - much like the ones who had passed her on the cart just a short while ago - and pretend to be one of the dirty, starving orphans. Lizzie liked how she was treated as an equal. Of course, the time came when she saw their suffering, and instead of pretending to be them, she took up the duty that was given to her as a lady and vowed to always care for the poor.
They began their trek through the city, continuing their banter and pointing out shops that they should come back and visit. Lizzie especially wanted to go to the street of silk and acquire some new dresses. Some of her old ones didn't fit her the same way they used to because it seemed the gods had a sense of humor and while they didn't give her a tall stature, they decided to bless her with curves that never seemed to want to stop changing her body. Besides that, she knew that, just like she'd been told throughout her stay in Winterfell - both seriously and teasingly - winter is coming. Many of her dresses were not at all suited for colder weather. She'd been mercilessly mocked about her shivering and the goosebumps that covered her skin. Not that she'd minded all that much, especially when that teasing came from the lips of a boy who made her flushed when he brazenly stared at all the skin her dresses showed. She would have minded even less if he'd used those lips to warm her up.
She shook her head as if to shake off the thoughts. It's best not to think of Winterfell. Of the North. The North with the boy who had bright piercing blue eyes that set her on edge and a smile that made her forget herself. No, Lizzie reminded herself, you are not going to be a girl who daydreams about a boy.
With that, she turned back to her sworn sword and returned to their conversation. Then, upon seeing an opening for it, she broached a subject that had been on her mind ever since little Arya Stark had confided in her that her half brother, Jon Snow, had given her a skinny little sword as a parting gift.
"Are you still considering getting a new sword, Ser? Or are you going to keep the blade that has been so reliable to you and saved both of our lives?"
The knight looked at her warily. Not that she could blame him. He'd become an expert at spotting when she had ulterior motives and she had never bothered to ask about swords, armor, or anything of the like before this moment. "I haven't decided yet, my lady. I'll probably wait until after the Hand's Tourney either way."
"Well, if you do decide to make a visit to the street of steel, I'd like to accompany you."
He turned in the saddle and looked at her sharply, "And what business do you have on the street of steel, my lady?
Burly, grouchy, and balding, Ser Egan Risely seemed the most unlikely companion to Lady Elizabeth of House Hightower. However, they suited each other well. He was wise and quick enough to stop her from her more… rebellious activities and she was lively and witty enough to allow him to feel young enough to keep up with her. That is until she got on her demon-horse, as he so fondly called her sweet mare. They had a unique relationship, similar to that of an uncle-niece. Although, Ser Egan knew far more of her secrets than any of her other uncles did.
It was three years ago, during a tournament held by her father to celebrate her grandfather's 60th nameday - not that he came down from the High Tower to celebrate it himself - that Ser Egan became Elizabeth's sworn sword. He had, to the shock of everyone, won the joust. He caused even more waves when he refused the winner's purse and instead asked for a place of service in her grandfather's household. He was the second son of a small house in the Reach, who had spent most of his years in Essos helping to improve trade relations between the free cities and the Reach. He'd been quite successful and no one knew for certain why he had returned and wanted to become a servant to one of the most prominent houses of the Reach. Her father, acting on behalf of her grandfather, granted it to him, stating that his daughter was always putting herself in unnecessary and unpredictable danger and was in need of a sworn sword.
'If it is your desire to be of service to the House Hightower, there is no greater honor than protecting the Pearl of Oldtown and Light of the High Tower.' Her father, Lord Baelor Hightower, had proudly proclaimed to the entire crowd to thunderous applause.
Both she and Ser Egan had been furious, although at the moment they hid it well. Elizabeth because now she'd have to work so much harder to sneak away from the lesson with her Septa to go play with the small-folk children, or hang around the tiltyard watching and cheering on her brothers and uncles, or going swimming, or riding, or any of the other number of activities that her Septa had frowned upon. Ser Egan because he'd trained his entire life and had just been reduced, in his mind, to the role of a Septa. However, refusing would have been an insult even though it was the last thing Ser Egan wanted to do. He spent the following months sulking and brooding while following around a chatty and overly energetic thirteen-year-old Elizabeth, who spent every moment she could trying to slip from his watch. It was her favorite game to play and it drove him mad. Which made it even more fun for her, especially once her siblings got in on the game and she became very inventive.
Eventually, Ser Egan grew fond of her although he'd never admit it. And Lizzie, unfortunately, learned the hard way exactly why she needed to be protected and stopped trying to escape him and now simply roped him into her escapades. Nowadays, they had a good rapport, respected each other, and cared for each other deeply.
Next to him atop his large Dothraki steed that had been a gift from a Khal after he'd defeated a Dothraki in combat, she had her horse, Syrax - who was named for one of the Targaryen dragons - trot through the streets of King's Landing.
Lizzie pondered how to answer his question on what she needed on the street of steel and decided to be honest. "I'd like to acquire a blade, something small, to put next to my satchel or under my pillow. And Addam is going to be squiring soon, I was thinking of gifting him some armor."
"A blade? My lady, why would you need one? I have never failed you." Ser Egan said incredulously, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw set, ready to talk her out of whatever nonsense she'd cooked up.
Lizzie sighed, "I don't anticipate ever needing one, nor do I have a desire to ever use one but it's something I'd like to have. Just as a precaution."
Ser Egan leveled her with one of his harsh stares. The one he gave her every time he knew she was not saying something but wasn't going to pry.
Luckily, it was at that moment, they got to the bridge to cross into the Red Keep and the guards allowed them to enter.
Trotting into the massive and imposing keep, she made Syrax come to a stop, dismounted, and handed the reins to a servant, Lionel was his name, she believed, who she gave a sweet smile to and then began to pet her beautiful chestnut mare.
"Please make sure to water and groom her thoroughly before giving her a double serving of her normal food before the rest of the royal party arrives. I had her running quite hard to the city gates and she's been superb the entire trip. My sweet girl deserves a reward." she informed the boy to which he nodded and then gave a soft, "Right away, m'lady."
Lizzie had kept with the royal party, as was her duty as one of the Queen's ladies when the Stark's had split off and rushed ahead after the "horrid business with the wolves", as Cersei so eloquently put it, not even trying to hide the disgust and rage she had for the animals and their owners. Lizzie didn't dare correct her and tell Cersei that they were actually direwolves. She had to keep her appearance of complete indifference and naive loyalty, lest the Lannister's suddenly get suspicious that she was anything but exactly that. She was so committed and diligent to staying on the Lannister's good side, she'd committed Ser Egan to help to search the woods after Sansa's direwolf had oh so mysteriously disappeared while the king, queen and Lord Stark had all convened in the Inn to decide what was to be done after Prince Joffrey had been "attacked".
Ser Egan had spent the entire night searching the woods alongside the Lannister soldiers and upon returning in the morning, he displayed his lack of amusement at her schemes by sending her a nasty glare to which it took all of her willpower not to laugh at as she had been holding Sansa, who was weeping at the loss of Lady, in her arms.
Staying with the queen had been expected of her while there was still some distance to the city, but once they came within sight of the city, she asked the queen to allow her to exercise her beloved steed before she had to confine her to the stables. Cersei had granted it as she generally didn't care what Lizzie did as long as she was around when she required her and didn't cause trouble. Ever since she had come to King's Landing a year ago, Lizzie had less and less time it seemed to properly exercise her horse. She knew the stablemaster and the stablehands did it well enough but she liked to do it herself and enjoy the wind in her hair, the freedom, the feeling of being uncatchable and wild.
On Syrax, that's exactly what she was. Uncatchable, wild, and free.
Syrax was beautiful. Bred to be a warhorse. She was as swift as the wind and strong enough to jump any fence, but she lacked the temperament needed to joust or ride into battle. She bolted as the slightest sign of danger. Therefore, her father thought she was the perfect horse to give to his oldest daughter who loved to ride far more than any other activity.
"Sister! It's about time! I'd begun to think you had gotten lost and froze to death."
She sighed at hearing her brother shout across the courtyard of the Red Keep. Lizzie wanted a bath and a long nap and was in desperate need of them both. She hoped her brother would have other things to give his attention to until later tonight and she'd be able to slip up into her rooms undetected. She loved him. She did. But after all that she had endured the past months - the traveling, all of the events that had transpired at Winterfell, and before that even, with the death of Jon Arynn - she was exhausted.
Seeing her brother cross the expanse though, she couldn't help but smile as he moved to embrace her. Triston was her mirror image in male form. Identical in every way except personality.
Just like the Queen and the Kingslayer, everybody whispered.
Pulling back from her brother's embrace, she appraised him, "Yes, dear brother, I am back. Back from over a month of riding so if you don't mind, I'd like to retire to my chambers."
They were twins but that was where almost all similarity to the Lannister's ended. The Lannister twin's hair was gold like their mines. The Hightower's was a silvery blonde, like their grandmother who had come from Lys. Cersei was tall and slim. Elizabeth was barely five and a half feet and was slender with curves. The Lannister's had green eyes. The Hightower's had hazel. Cersei was cold whereas Elizabeth was warm. Jaime and Triston were opposites too. Both were strong, but Jaime was slender and Triston was bulky. Jaime was taller but had a much smaller build than her brother who had broad shoulders. Their sole similarity was that they never took anything seriously. Life seemed to be one big joke to them to the frustration of their other halves.
"Well then, I'll escort you! If you're exhausted, I can only imagine how poor Ser Egan feels. You're relieved for the rest of the day, Ser." Triston said grabbing her arm and pulling her along. She didn't see Ser Egan bow and shake his head at his charge and her twin. He knew exactly what they were running off to do.
"Triston, please can we talk after…"
"No." He cut her off. "You've been off galavanting the seven kingdoms while I had to go play chaperone for Lady Lenora. The least you can do is tell me tales of the wintery abode and all this business on the king's road that has everyone's tongues wagging."
"Oh, very well. But I don't think I can do the white walkers and giants justice. I'm not that good of a storyteller." she teased.
Of course, he'd want to spend time with her and she wanted to spend time with him too. This was the longest time they'd ever spent apart and there was so much to catch up on. Triston had been terribly bitter when he was told that he'd been committed to a task that wouldn't allow him to travel to the North with her. He'd been asked to go to Felwood in the Stormlands, where he was to retrieve their older brother Gerold's betrothed, Lenora Fell, and take her to Oldtown so she and Gerold could spend time together before their wedding which was presently less than two months away.
As it was, that meant they had spent nearly 4 months apart.
While they were complete opposites in personality, they understood each other completely. Normally, this was one of Lizzie's greatest comforts. She always went to Triston for advice and help before anyone else and he did the same with her. Of course, whether they actually heeded each other's advice was a different matter.
The fact he knew her so well was what had her so worried. He'd be able to see through her mask. He will know something had happened - that something had changed her - and he would not stop badgering her until he finds out what it is.
They walked arm in arm to her chamber's chatting idly. Anyone with sense knew that the hallways of the Red Keep were no place to gossip. If it wasn't Varys little birds listening in, it was Littlefinger's or the Queen's. Elizabeth had her own spies to watch out for her. There were only a few but their loyalty was unfailing and they were exceptionally good at keeping her informed.
She passed a maid and asked for a bath to be readied for her as soon as possible. The maid was quick to go to do just that, just like any servant in the Red Keep when she asked them to do anything. Being one of the few people who treated them with kindness had its advantages.
Finally, they reached her chambers. Triston opened the door, ushered her in, and closed the door shut enthusiastically behind her.
"Okay, out with it all. Don't you dare spare a single detail." He said hurrying over to her table to pour them both a glass of Arbor wine.
She ignored him and walked leisurely into the room and took off her riding gloves and cloak, placing them both on an armchair and rubbing her neck. Taking a deep breath, Lizzie tried to decide how and if she should tell him at all. If she was wrong, it would be disastrous for everyone involved. But if she was right... She needed Triston, no matter what. He teased her and often rubbed her nose in the fact that he had the freedoms that she so desperately craved, but he was her rock. Reliable and a constant. If it was true, he'd find out eventually and he'd be upset when he learned she kept information from him. If the situation was reversed, she'd be furious. After all, this was part of the reason they'd been sent to the Capitol.
She felt Triston walk up next to her and place a hand on her shoulder. Reaching out, she grabbed one of the wine glasses he was holding. He peered down at her with quizzical eyes.
"Lizzie…"
She took a big swig from her glass.
"I think Jon Arynn was murdered and the Stark boy didn't fall. He was pushed from the tower."
There. She said it. Or at least, she told him the important things.
A long pause lingered in the room.
She took a big sip from her wine and looked up at him. Triston stood there. Eyes wide, eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead, and mouth slightly parted so when he let out a deep breath that he'd been holding, she felt it on the top of her head.
Finally, he snapped out of it and chuckled. "Seven hells Lizzie, I leave you alone for a few months and everything goes to shit? I guess it's true what the bards say about it being bad luck for twins to be separated." he quipped with that irritatingly wide smile that he uses to charm his way out of anything. Then he got serious. "Are you sure? Because this isn't something to say lightly. I mean, if anyone were to hear a whisper of thi-"
"I know! Trust me, I do. I've had months to think about it and I know in my gut that Lord Arynn did not die naturally. He was murdered."
"Do you have proof?" he asked.
"Not anything concrete but we both know how the Tears of Lys work and I have seen it before with my own eyes. Jon Arryn was poisoned." Elizabeth and Triston had spent 3 months in Lys visiting their aunt just a year before. Elizabeth, who'd always been interested and dabbled in healing, visited many healing houses and there she saw the effect of the Tears on someone who had accidentally ingested it while making some.
Triston had sat down on the chair she'd thrown her cloak on, throwing his hands up in surrender and lounging back. "Alright, alright. I believe you. So who's on the suspect list? Are we to launch an investigation? Bring people in for questioning? Perhaps I should get a quill and paper to write this all down."
She withered a glare at him. "Will you be serious for once?"
He shrugged, "Ok, Jon Arynn was murdered. So what? Clearly, King Robert doesn't suspect anything or heads would be on spikes and this is the first I'm hearing of it. If anybody else does suspect, they either are like you and don't have evidence or don't care."
"Lord Stark will care." she mused.
Triston straightened up. "Lizzie, in the name of the Crone, please tell me you have enough sense not to tell the new Hand of the King these baseless accusations."
"Of course, I haven't. Do you take me for a fool? But Lord Stark is intelligent and he's going to figure it out on his own. He'll start retracing Lord Arynn's movements from before he died. That will lead him to Robert's bastards and once he starts asking questions, his life will be in danger from whoever killed Jon Arynn." Lizzie explained in an aggravated tone. People who underestimated the intelligence of northerners were fools. "And baseless accusations? I thought you said you believed me."
"I do! Everyone else though will see this as baseless accusations if you whisper a word of this to anyone. And Ned Stark hardly has enough time on his hands to be worried about what may have happened to a dead man with his new position. And what's this about his son being pushed? I'd heard he'd fallen from some tower. Two accusations of murder? Tut tut. Lizzie, you're getting as paranoid as the Mad King. I'm going to assume there is no evidence for this one either?" Triston cocked his head to the side and gave her a mocking smile.
"Ugh, you're impossible. I'm too tired to deal with you." She exclaimed, walking away from him to refill her glass. She was exasperated. He was just such a pain sometimes. She needed him to comfort her. She'd been carrying these secrets and suspicions for weeks and she'd been desperate to be able to say it out loud. Lizzie needed his help.
"Awww, my poor sweet sister. Let's stop this talk of treachery for a later time. Tell me about your adventure in the north. Is it as cold and grey as they say? Did you really see giants? What are the Starks like?"
She laughed as she poured the wine. "No, there weren't any giants. Although northern men are much taller and bigger than southern men."
"Oh, that's no fun," Triston pouted.
"The north is hardly boring though. It's beautiful, wild, and it's so big. It took a month to get there and two weeks of that was spent just in the North, albeit we took a ridiculously slow pace because of that wheelhouse the queen insisted on. Syrax and I were constantly frustrated on the journey there and back." Lizzie said with her back still turned to him.
"And the Starks?" he pressed.
"Oh, yes." Lizzie took another big sip and turned to walk over to the arrangement of chairs and cushions next to her fireplace, one of which Triston currently lounging in. "Well, the girls have traveled here to the capitol with their father and you'll meet them soon enough. They're complete opposites but I've grown fond of them both. Arya is wild, much like I was when I was her age. Sansa's the perfect little lady. I just hope I can get my hands on her and influence her before the Queen does. She's terribly naive. The north and her family are honorable and she's been sheltered. She'll need guidance and some maturing, especially since she is to be Joffrey's queen." She began undoing the braid that she had worn her hair in. Her hair was greasy, dirty, and a tangled mess. She hoped they sent one of the servants she liked because it was going to take a while to wash it and she would need help.
"Seven hells, the poor girl. I agree. It's best you try and help her." Triston had genuine sympathy in his voice for Sansa. They'd been in King's Landing for 5 months before Jon Arynn had died and that was more than enough time to discover that Joffrey was cruel, stupid, and weak."And what of Ned Stark?"
"He's exactly as the stories tell him. He and Robert are close. Closer than I've ever seen the king be with any of his actual brothers. Like I said earlier, he's smart. And he's honorable. A rare thing to be in this place and it makes him innocuous, except to himself of course."
Lizzie hoped that would be enough. His curiosity would be satisfied and he'd not pry.
"So a northern fool as the Hand. He shouldn't be here for too long. Still, he's someone we should at the very least be friendly with." Triston paused and he seemed to be lost in thought and she began to relax until he opened his mouth again.
"What about the rest of the Stark brood? Is it true Ned Stark's bastard looks more like him than his trueborn sons? That has to infuriate his wife." Seven hells, he had to ask about the exact person she didn't want to talk about. What should she say? Should she stay vague or simply answer straight forward? Too little or too much would give her away. God only knows what would happen if her father heard of her running off alone with a northerner, not just once or twice, but a countless amount of times. She did her best to keep her face neutral and the mask of impassivity that she reserved for noble lords and ladies firmly in place. While trying to sort her thoughts and figure out how to navigate herself out of this, she took too long to answer and Triston seized the opportunity to tease her.
"Huh... Why so quiet about Ned Stark's sons?" Triston waggled his eyebrows at her. She knew that glint in his eyes. He was readying to dig and he wouldn't stop until he unearthed whatever he was looking for.
"It's nothing. The rumors are true." She dismissed. 'Please let him go away', she prayed to the Seven.
"Oh, what rumors would we be referring to? The one about the bastard? Or the ones about you flirting and becoming… how should we put it? Close to Robb Stark?"
Lizzie's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. How had he known? Was she that obvious? Had father heard? Was she to be sent back to Oldtown? Who els-
Her panicked thoughts were interrupted by her brother's uproarious laughter. He'd thrown his head back in laughter and had a hand over his belly. What exactly he found so funny was beyond her.
"Well, that confirms that suspicion," Triston smirked and continued laughing.
"You scheming, devious, leecher! How dare you trick me!" She grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face causing him to only laugh harder. He hadn't known anything, he had just guessed and she'd fallen right into his trap. He knew her too well.
"Oh relax. The only way I had known what to guess is because I ran into some of the Stark's household this morning. The Captain of their household guard was in the tiltyard and I introduced myself and inquired about you. He was helpful enough to regale me with all sorts of tales about your time in the north. I'm kind of hurt you managed to have so much fun without me? I feel inconsequential. Like I've been replaced." He teased and pouted.
Lizzie scoffed and tried to shrug it off. "Stop with the dramatics. You're my twin. Nobody could ever replace you. And it was nothing. Just some harmless flirting."
"Oh really? Nothing? Riding off into the Wolfwood with Robb Stark chasing after you. Sneaking into the kitchens with Robb Stark. Sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell next to Robb Stark and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. And that's just what he observed. I know you, Lizzie. Gods only know what you sneaked around doing. My, my, my Lizzie, if that's nothing, I wonder what constitutes something to you."
Damn, Jory Cassel. She was going to have him whipped the next time she saw him. Not really. But she'd be informing him of the need for discretion here in the capitol. She had already convinced the Queen that it was a ploy to turn her father away from a betrothal to someone in the Vale. She didn't need rumors being spread and the Queen questioning her again.
She felt her shoulders sag. For the millionth time it felt like, she went over what an idiot she had been. Gods, how could she be so stupid? She should've stayed away from him. Robb was everything she had told herself to guard her heart against. Noble girls are not allowed to get their hopes up and dream of boys. Marriage matches are made for them and sometimes if they're lucky they get a small say in it.
But that's the thing, wasn't it? She had tried to stay away from him. She avoided him. She walked the other way in the courtyard upon their arrival and she ignored the way he looked at her at the feast that same night. Their first few interactions she kept friendly but brief and maintained all sense of propriety. She'd even used his bastard brother, Jon, by pretending to be lost and asked him to escort her to the stables and gave him a peck on the cheek as a thank you in plain view of everyone. Lizzie thought that if he'd seen her being warm and affectionate with his baseborn brother while refusing to do the same with him, it'd put him off. It had instead had the exact opposite effect.
And if anything, she could blame the gods because they had blessed Robb Stark. He was charming in a way that she had never experienced before. It wasn't the perfumed and vapid flattery of the southern boys she was used to. It was honest, kind, and at times, intense. The way he'd looked at her, really looked at her. Not out of obligation or politeness but with a focus that showed he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He wanted to know her thoughts and opinions. Robb cared enough to ask and be committed to hearing her answer and then went through everything she said with a fine-tooth comb. Sometimes for more details, other times to debate her, and a few times to tease her about a particular trivial thing that she got passionate about. It was a devotion that she'd never experienced from any man before.
That's not to even mention the other way she caught him looking at her. The way that had made her flesh warm and it difficult to breathe. There were far too many nights she woke up aching because of dreams that featured those blue eyes looking at her.
The thought of it made her flush.
"Lizzie, it's hardly that serious…" Triston started bewildered at seeing her face go red.
He probably assumed it was from anger. After all, she'd never been a blushing maiden before. It was a side of her that he'd never seen before. Four months ago it hadn't existed.
She didn't want to talk about this. She pushed herself up and walked away behind the changing screen to start taking off her riding dress. The strings were in the front and she was able to take off the dress easily without a handmaid. It was a simple dress but impeccably well made. It was bright blue and had a boat neck cut with long sleeves made of satin that was perfectly tailored and stopped at her wrist to allow for her leather riding gloves and protected her from the elements. It cinched at her waist and then billowed out and allowed for the dress to fold in on itself to hide the extra fabric and underskirt that hid her legs when she was riding but didn't hinder her movements when she was walking.
Slipping the dress off of her, she hoped her brother would leave or the maids would hurry up with her bathwater. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case. As Elizabeth reached for her Myrish silk robe, she heard his voice come through the cracks in the mahogany wood of her changing screen.
"Unless it is that serious. Sweet Lizzie… don't tell me you've followed cousin Margarey's example of allowing her, ahem, flower to be plucked. No judgment if you did but I hope you were discreet about it and drank some moon tea. The last thing the Starks need is another bastard running around."
Throwing the robe on and tightly securing it, she marched out from behind the screen, and with a light voice that she hoped hid just how on edge her nerves were, she said, "Don't even joke about that. Robb would never act so dishonorably, nor would I. Father would have me locked up in the High Tower with Grandfather and Aunt Malora if people started spreading tales that I was running around with a northern boy."
"Now who's being dramatic... Grandfather adores you and would never do such a thing. 'The Pearl of Oldtown and the Light of the High Tower'!" Triston mocked her with the title she'd been given since she was a little girl. "Even if he did hear about it grandfather would hardly care. He let Aunt Lynesse marry a northerner of a far lesser house."
"Yes, he did, and look how that turned out." She gave him a pointed look. "I don't want to argue about this. It hardly matters. I didn't even let him kiss me." Lizzie sighed and flung herself on her bed. Triston followed after her, grabbed onto one of the wooden posts on the corner of her bed, and peered over at her.
"Let him? So he did try to kiss you?"
Ugh, he was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something.
Thankfully, the maids decided to knock at that moment and announce her bath water was ready to be brought in.
"Well, time for you to leave. I have an entire kingdom worth of dirt to get off of me and then I plan on sleeping until dawn." She jumped up from the bed and grabbed his arm dragging him out but Triston never the one to be deterred and filled with an incessant need to get in the last word said, "Ha ha ha, this conversation is simply delayed, Lizzie. I'll get the truth out of you. We didn't even get to the business on the King's Road with the wolves." She grabbed the door and opened it up to see servants holding multiple pitchers of steaming water. And oh good, the exact person she had wanted to come had.
"You all might just be my favorite people in the world at this moment. Do come in, come in." She exclaimed holding the door open and allowing them to walk in and then turning to her brother, she gave him a good shove out the door. "And you, you menace, get out and stop pestering me for gossip like a fishwife. Don't you have someone to be squiring for anyway?" Triston had worked tirelessly for weeks and months to convince her father to find someone for him to squire for. As it turned out when he finally conceded and sent inquiries out, Ser Barristan Selmy himself offered to have him as his squire. The famous knight had said that he owed it to their great-great-uncle Ser Gerold Hightower, who had been the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and a mentor and friend to him, to personally see to the training of his slain friend's kin. Her brother was obsessed with him and would do just about anything to impress the older man.
"So demanding but yes, I suppose you're right. He should be getting back at any moment with the King. I'll see you whenever you emerge from your slumber so we can both continue our 'investigations'." Pressing a kiss to her forehead while she rolled her eyes, Triston then turned and walked away. She closed the door and walked over to where they were preparing the bath.
"Could you put the oils from Lys in? The subtle flowery one. It's been one of the few extravagances I've missed. And could you stay and help me with my hair? I'm afraid it's quite the disaster and we have our work cut out for us." She asked her favorite servant, Becca, with a smile.
There was an oil she liked, but it didn't smell flowery. She left that for her cousins, the Tyrell's. Her preferred scent was something sweet, unlike anything she'd ever smelled before. In Lys, they called it vanilla. It was ridiculously expensive and her father had written to her twice asking her to try to find a different oil to love that was less expensive. She just used that as a special phrase that let Becca know she'd like for a report on any information
"Of course, m'lady. It's so nice to have you back, along with the rest of the court. It's been awfully quiet here the past months." replied Becca.
Becca was an orphan. Her mother and father had been servants in the Red Keep during the Mad King's rule. She miraculously escaped being killed during the Sack of King's Landing, mostly due to the fact that she had been one of Varys little birds up until a few years ago. Now, she was a woman of twenty-four years who was extremely sweet and while not pretty, she wasn't ugly either. She was plain, with her brown hair, brown eyes, and thin body which is what made her perfect for being a spy. Nobody ever suspects plain servant girls. For her services, Lizzie provided protection, some gold, and her word that she'd help Becca find a good man to wed and take care of her once her services were no longer needed.
Her bath was ready and the rest of the servants left closing the door behind them. She undid her robe and stepped in sighing as she felt the warm water ease her muscles and rid her skin of dirt and sweat. Becca hovered nearby but she knew that Lizzie didn't like to talk until it was time to do her hair so their voices were hushed just in case someone was listening at the door. After a minute, she began scrubbing her body with a cloth, some soap, and oils in silence.
Once she was finished getting rid of the dirt on her body, she grabbed the blade and took the time to shave. Being smooth once again was a relief. She then turned to Becca and asked her to begin washing her hair.
"How are you, Becca? I missed you. Nobody can do my hair like you although I hardly needed it in the north. They wear it much simpler there." Lizzie smiled while closing her eyes and leaned back, letting the water be poured over her head.
"I'm well m'lady. It was quiet with the King and Queen having been gone but it allowed us to have some free time on our hands. Lyra, one of Princess Myrcella's handmaids, has found herself with child. It's one of the Lannister guards. She'll probably be telling him today and they'll have to wed because she'll be dismissed and without means to provide for herself and the babe. And a bunch of us maids went exploring the tunnels underneath the city. We managed to find a path to the cliffs and a little hidden beach outside of the keep."
This is one of the reasons she liked Becca. She wasn't just good for political information. She knew the Red Keep almost better than anyone and was well-liked among all the other servants. She told her of things that seemed inconsequential but Lizzie always found to be interesting.
"Did you? How interesting." Lizzie mused.
"Yea, we did m'lady. But I know you'll be wanting to hear about more important matters. There isn't that much to tell ya, m'lady. I tried to figure out why Lady Arynn left all suddenly but all I managed to discover is that she'd been acting scared lately. Looking over her shoulder and the like, more paranoid than normal, forgive me for saying so. Lord Baratheon, the older one, left for Dragonstone some time ago and hasn't come back. Whispers say there's a red priestess of that fire god from Essos living in the castle there. And then there was news from across the narrow sea. About the Targaryen's. It caused quite a stir." Becca worked her fingers through Lizzie's hair, spreading the oils by running a comb through it and ridding her of the knots.
"Yes, I did hear something of that while we were on the King's Road. My sworn sword has told me some tales of his encounters with the Dothraki and they terrified me. They sound so brutal and merciless. I can't imagine being forced to marry one. That poor girl." Lizzie shuddered while Becca poured a pitcher of water over her head rinsing the oils out. Forced marriages to cruel men was a touchy subject for any girl. "How is Vary's getting the information? I thought his little birds had difficulty getting into the manse of the Magister who was hosting them?"
"He's employed a knight from Westeros who's looking for a pardon from some crimes and pretending to be a Targaryen loyalist. Ser Jorah Mormont is who it is." Lizzie leaned up suddenly. That was her good uncle! She'd never met him and he was one of the things to blame for why she had no hope of ever being allowed to marry Robb or any other northerner. Her Aunt Lynesse had fallen in love with Ser Jorah after he had won a tournament and her grandfather had agreed to their marriage. It didn't last long because she was miserable on Bear Island as it was a far cry from the south and all of its fineries that her aunt had been used to. Ser Jorah had been caught selling poachers to slavers trying to make her happy and Ned Stark went to make him face justice for his crimes. Her aunt and uncle had fled to Lys until eventually, they separated and Aunt Lynesse was now the chief concubine to the merchant-lord Tregar Ormollen.
Lizzie, Triston, and their uncle had visited her just over a year ago. She was happy and ruled the manse she lived in, to the point where even his wife was scared of Lynesse. It was impressive how she had turned the worst of circumstances to her favor. Lizzie, while she didn't look favorably on how her aunt had behaved, loved her family unconditionally and it wasn't her place to question or look down on her aunt. Her aunt and she looked a lot alike and as such Lynesse had taken a liking to her, even if they were very different in personality. It was part of the reason that Lizzie had so many things from Lys.
What would it mean for her aunt if her disgraced knight of a husband got a pardon? And the Targaryens being tied in marriage to a man with an army that big was worrisome. It didn't matter that they'd never crossed the sea. Lizzie had grown up surrounded by maesters. She knew that even if something had never happened before, it didn't mean that it would never happen.
She turned to Becca who held out a hand to help her out of the bath, "That's interesting... Ser Jorah is related to me by marriage to my aunt so I'd like it if you could pay extra care to any news about him. I'd like to be prepared in case he gets the pardon and returns to Westeros." The only thing to do now was to wait for more information.
Becca nodded and helped her dry herself off and put on a nightgown.
"Would you like me to braid your hair m'lady? It's grown even longer than the queen's."
Lizzie's hair was very long. The longest curls went all the way to the small of her back and even though it was darkened by the water, you could still see that it was a pale white-blonde color. "No, I'd like to leave it. I'm afraid I'd fall asleep at my vanity waiting for you to finish." Lizzie replied.
The white-blonde hair of the Hightowers was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They had married with the Targaryens and Lyseni to the point where it was a fifty-fifty chance of getting the hair. It was a well-known fact and yet that didn't stop King Robert from glaring at her and her brother anytime he caught sight of them. He'd even threatened to kill Triston one time in a drunken rage, accidentally mistaking him for Rhaegar. It took three Kingsguard to persuade him that Rhaegar was dead and Triston wasn't a threat.
Lizzie often thought Cersei liked to bring her around Robert for that exact reason. Nevermind how scared it made her, angering Robert gave her too much satisfaction to pass up the opportunity.
"That'll be all, Becca. You can tell them to bring up some food later tonight but to leave it at the door because I'm not sure when I'll wake."
Becca curtsied, gave a soft, "Sleep well, m'lady" and left the room.
Lizzie climbed into her bed and drew the curtains around her bed to block out the sun. She'd had them put there for this very reason as she often liked to take midday naps.
Laying on her back in the darkness, Lizzie closed her eyes and had a million thoughts running through her head. Robb. Triston. Her upcoming trip home to Oldtown. Robb. Ned Stark. The tournament for the Hand that was doubtless going to occur. Her aunt and exiled uncle. Robb. Dothraki. Targaryens. Aunt Melora. The smell of snow. Sansa and Arya. Direwolves. Robb.
With all of these thoughts swirling in her head, she finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.