Lyanna :
Now that the Stormlords had finally arrived, the tourney would commence on the morrow. Tonight, however, there was going to be a massive ball, to be held in the hall of hundred hearths. It's only five and thirty, I counted. Still, Lyanna knew that this hall was bigger than any in Winterfell. Ned said that Harrenhal's kitchens were bigger than the great hall of her home. Speaking of which, Lyanna's eyes darted around to look around for both her elder brothers.
She felt a tug at her sleeve and looked down to see little Ben pulling at it with one hand, pointing his other to the balcony above on their right. Bran was standing there with the heir of Lord Arryn and his nieces. She noticed Bran's paw lingering way too long on the shoulder on the middle one. Is he daft, his betrothed's uncle is here. She dearly wished Bran's wolfblood wouldn't let him to do something stupid, specially in presence of a man with as fierce a reputation as Blackfish. He wasn't likely to take Bran's frolicking lightly.
"Look, there's Ned." said her younger brother, pointing to the entrance on the other side of the hall. She saw her brother laughing, along with her betrothed. Robert Baratheon loomed over Ned. He was taller than even Bran, among the tallest men in the hall, quite possibly the tallest. Not unpleasant to look at as well. He had one lean, muscled arm over her Ned, the other over what she guessed was the younger brother of the lord of Stormlands, Stannis Baratheon. It was just a moment later that she found herself dragged back to the present quite literally, as Ben took her hand and pulled her, making their way through the crowds, waving at Ned and calling his name, wanting to catch Ned's attention.
Halfway through the hall, Ben seemed to have succeeded, when all the three men turned their heads in their direction. Robert took off his arms of his brother and hers, and straightened, a large smile on his face. She spied a smile on Ned's lip as well. It's not like we'd greet each other and fall in love, Ned. She chastised her elder brother in the privacy of her mind. She then saw the younger Baratheon brother, who even though was a year younger than Ned, still was taller than her elder brother. While Ned was want to have him solemn face, whenever brooding or in company of people he scarce knew, Stannis visage was stern and serious. Still her future good brother had a small courtly smile on his face, which seemed to take him some effort to sustain.
"Lya," Ned moved towards her and hugged her, and proceeded to ruffle little Ben's hair "Ben."
"Ned!" they both greeted their brother together.
Her betrothed came next, his hand extended. Unsure what to do, Lyanna extended hers as well, which Robert took and kissed the back of, "Lady Lyanna." Despite herself, she felt her cheeks going red. He then turned towards her younger brother, who stood there awed by the large personage of her betrothed, "And you must be Benjen Stark. Come, show us your muscles."
At that her little Ben curled up his arm, a big grin on his face. Probably from someone paying attention to him.
Robert leaned in and laughed a small laugh. "Aye, you'll be a soldier."
"This is my brother, Stannis." Robert said turning towards the mentioned man, who bowed to them both, while she and Ben said their greetings.
"I hope we find you both in good health."
"And I you, my lord." She said before throwing a pleading look towards Ned.
Ned took her meaning and asked Ben to come along, before turning to Stannis, "Would you join us Stannis?"
Stannis for his part seemed to understand what was going on and soon fell in step with her brothers. She now had Robert all to herself, just as she wanted. She spared a look towards a betrothed who had a knowing smile on his face. "So the she-wolf has the Stag cornered."
Hearing that, her heart started pounding in her breast. Of course he figured it out, he's a man grown. And a Lord, furthermore. She admonished herself. But still a thousand questions zipped through her mind, questions that she wanted to ask her betrothed. Questions only he would answer.
Before she could ask any of them, she heard a sweet voice call Robert's name, followed by a flock of womanly laughs and giggles. She turned towards its source, and saw a flock of women coming towards them, led by a one in a violet gown.
She was the most beautiful woman Lyanna had ever seen, with long raven locks that tumbled around her shoulders and haunting amethyst eyes. She came up to them and looked directly at Lyanna, "When were you going to introduce me, Robert?" the lady said, landing her delicate hand on Robert shoulder.
Lyanna found that strange. Weren't the southern lot supposed to be all about propriety? Yet here was someone, addressing Robert with any proper titles.
"Just now," Robert said, "This is lady Lyanna of house Stark. And this my Lady, is lady Ashara of House Dayne."
That must have been it. Dornish were pretty lax about these things far as she knew.
"Finally I make your acquaintance, lady Lyanna." She said as she curtsied to her.
Lyanna on her part tried her best to remember how the maids at Winterfell had taught her and curtsied in return. "And I you, lady Ashara."
That Ashara used her proper title didn't escape Lyanna's notice. Or that the Dornish beauty left a lingering hand on his shoulder, who she promptly turned back to, "I tire of empty gossip Robert. I want to dance!"
"Last I heard, no one forbade you to."
"Would you have them play that song," Ashara replied. At Robert's raised eyebrows, she continued, "Secrets."
Robert turned on his heel and said in a loud, booming voice, "MARO!". A voice that will carry well over the hall, Lyanna noted.
Soon a bard,his skin as dark as ebony, from where the musicians were on a stage, came running to Robert and bowed.
"My lady wants to dance to Secrets."
"My lord." The bard bowed again and returned to his troupe, and soon, they started singing. She espied many nobles turning towards the stage.
Everybody here wants you,
My Love,
My Love,
A squeal escaped Lady Ashara, who promptly turned and left, without ever muttering a thanks to Robert. The latter for his part just looked with a wide smile at the retreating flock. She joined him at looking at this lady Ashara. Might I be one day so beautiful that I can command high lords to do my bidding? Lyanna dearly wished that were so as she grew into her womanly form. Mayhaps Robert will even let me practice swords if I ask sweetly of him?
She didn't notice the extended hand that Robert had thrust towards her, "May I have a dance my Lady?"
She took his hand and nodded assent, as Robert led her to the center where lords and ladies were coupling together for Dance. She espied lady Ashara happily dancing with her brother, laughing as Ser Arthur tripped on his flowing white cloak. She saw a boy in a black and yellow doublet dance with a girl in red and green. And she saw stupid Bran, twirling the Arryn niece this way and that. And she noticed Robert trying his best not to step on her toes.
"You wanted to ask something," Robert said, "Ask away."
"I . . ." she stuttered, not sure where to start, "My lord . . ."
"None of that. We're to be married. It's Robert to you."
"Then it's Lyanna to you."
"Very well Lyanna. What troubles you?"
"Well, my betrothed refusing my hand three times for start," At that Robert looked at her sheepishly. Aha! I have him startled now. "Did you think North not good enough for you? Or did you think our women had beards as fierce as men?"
At the last jab, Robert snorted, much to her dislike.
"I count Ned my best friend. Would that be the case if I thought less of the North or northmen?"
"So maybe you don't find me beautiful," she said with more steel behind her voice than she had intended, "Maybe Lady Ashara would be more to your liking."
Robert seemed to have been taken aback by that, "I'll cut down the fool who questions the beauty of my intended!" He growled, before calming his features, "As for lady Ashara. She's just a friend at court in Kings Landing. Nothing more."
"So what was it then? Was it the tale you spun to Ned?"
"Tis not a tale, Lyanna. Since it seems Ned already told you what we talked about, I'll ask you the same. Will you truly be happy in South, so far from your home?"
"Why do you care about my happiness?"
"Well," Robert looked at her impishly, "No man wants a sad harridan for a wife. I would certainly not!"
Despite herself, Lyanna snorted.
"I'll ask again, would you be happy? With us? Our Match?"
She noticed her heart beating even faster. For now was the thrust of her questioning. "My father is kind to me, allows me certain freedoms."
"I'm aware."
"Would you allow me the same?"
A rueful look came over Robert, "In front of my lords? You'll have to put up the farce of being a perfect little lady," Robert must have seen her dejected look as he continued with a smile, "But away from their judging eyes? Do whatever you want. Practice swords? Go ahead. Run horses? Be my guest. You can go and sail a ship if you want." He said, putting a finger under her chin and lifting it up.
"I don't want a sad or dejected wife. But you would have to be the perfect lady amongst the nobles. Can I expect that of you?"
"You can."
"Good," Robert said, smiling,"We have an understanding then!"
It's a lie!
A lie!
I catch you every time.
Suddenly having found his steps, Robert drew her near and twirled her.
In your lust!
Your lust!
Every time you close your eyes.
Despite herself, despite her pounding heart, she smiled, moving herself to the rhythm. And paid attention to the bawdy words of the song.
I hear the secrets that you keep.
When you talk in your sleep.
I hear the secrets that you keep.
Keep! Keep!
When you talk, talk in, talk in.
As he twirled her this way and that, their body finally in step with the rhythm, he found herself laughing. It will not be as I feared, at all. If Robert kept his words, then mayhaps . .
As the bards moved on to the next verse and the rhythm calmed down, they came closer.
"I truly meant no offense with those ravens Lyanna. I've told Ned. I've told your lord Father. I've told Brandon Stark when he came with an unsheathed blade to interrogate me. There were some other concerns that made me doubt the wisdom of the match."
"What concerns?"
"Lordly concerns. I'll not bore you with them." Robert said, dismissively, "Any more questions my she-wolf has?"
With her spirits lifted, Lyanna felt like toying with her prey.
"I've heard rumors about you."
"What of, I wonder?"
"I've heard you ordered a whorehouse built, just for nobles."
"Whorehouse?" Robert said in mock offense, "It's a pleasure house. There is a difference. Besides. Seven heirs, four second sons and two noble born bastards I've taken as my squires and pages."
"Because you're a big man," Lyanna said with a mischievous tint, "Who needs more hands to strap on the harness."
"Just so," Robert said, winking back at her, "So you can imagine how bad it would look on me if one of them died from a pox he got from a two penny whore."
Lyanna laughed at that, preparing her next jab "They also say you're a sycophant to the Targaryens."
"First of all, I'd like to hear who these 'they' are," he said as he twirled her about, "And secondly, they are family. And I'm oh so generous with my wealth."
By now the entire hall was taken over by lords and ladies coupled for dancing. A few paces away, Brandon called for her, "Baratheon, I will dance with my sister now."
At that Robert pulled her closer, her leaning on his arm "And Lyanna, tell Brandon the next time he comes brandishing a sword," Robert visage, for the first time since she saw his, was serious, "I'll forget that he's yours and Ned's brother and pop his head like a pimple." And with that warning, that raised gooseflesh on the back of her neck, he spun her to Brandon's waiting arms.
A/N: So Brandon is quite blatantly flirting with neices of Jon Arryn. Also he came to Robert with an unsheathed sword to interrogate why the North or his sister wasn't good enough for this fancy sourthern. SI remained calm, mostly.