This begins right after Brandon and Elia part ways in Chapter 5


Brandon paced like a caged wolf as he waited for Ned to arrive.

He realized they had not seen each other since they parted ways after that blasted tourney.

Harrenhal.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the darkness. Though it remained, taking his thoughts to his sister. They spiraled further and he tried to think of home in comfort, but that led him to think of Benjen. Young, sweet Ben . Alone as the Stark in Winterfell.

We're orphans now, pup, he thought to himself.

I'm so sorry.

Now he thought back to the brother he would see soon and wished he could just go to Ned directly instead of waiting like this. But Elia had been right when she suggested that they have some privacy.

He stopped pacing for a moment, closing his eyes as he remembered his lapse, though small, in judgment with the Queen. He cursed himself for grabbing her hand like that. But something came over him in the moment, and it happened before he thought about what he was doing.

Typical.

Somehow since that day when he woke to her tending his neck - since he found out how she stood up for him in front of the Mad King no less, a respect for her had lodged itself in him, as deep as the roots of a weirwood. And in their conversations since and the time they'd spent together during these past few weeks in the capital, he found himself at ease when he was with her.

That's what he felt when they began a bit of a banter earlier as they sipped their wine. And then she had closed her eyes as the sun washed over her, and Brandon felt himself staring at the beautiful calm that took over her face then, his eyes drifting to her lips as she seemed to try and regain her composure. From the wine or our conversation? he had wondered at the time.

That was what had prompted him to bring up her dark gown - he was trying to rouse himself from thoughts like that, in addition to avoiding the grief and rage that seemed to lie in wait for him more and more these days.

"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered to himself, resuming his pacing.

Finally a few moments later, there was a knock on the door and he found himself without breath as he waited for it to open. And when it finally did, any breath in him left him in a rush.

"Ned." Brandon's voice was broken, shards of an icicle on the ground.

His own name barely left Ned's mouth before their arms were around each other in a strong embrace. Brandon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. To see his brother was overwhelming in equal parts good and painful.

He pulled back to look him over. "You didn't need to come here, Ned," he told him gruffly but with a small smile.

Not surprisingly, Ned looked back at him with an intensely somber gaze. "I needed to know you were alive , Brandon, that you were safe!" he replied, the tone of his voice betraying his attempt to steady his emotions. "When I got the first raven, about father - " His voice wavered slightly as he paused.

"Ned. It's my fault -"

"You did what you thought was right. It's not your fault there was a monster on the throne," Ned began, closing his eyes before opening them a few moments later to look at his older brother. "There...there were no good choices. You're alive though, and for that, I give thanks."

Brandon wondered if he truly meant it - or if he was just relieved he wasn't dead too. Ned looked at his neck uneasily, wincing as he took in the remaining marks of the device that nearly took his life. "How did you survive? Why did he not kill you?"

Brandon's hand ghosted along his neck. "It is a long story." It wasn't, truly. It was quite short. But it could wait for another time, he reasoned. "But...I am lucky to be alive."

There was an awkward silence before Ned spoke again. "You said you knew of Lyanna, that she's safe?" Ned asked hopefully.

The reality was Brandon did not even have all the facts. But the letter Elia had shown him made clear she was not kidnapped. After that, the truth was - well, he did not know. He could only pray it was as he wanted it to be. That would be the best truth.

"Ned," he sighed. "It's not what I thought, what anyone thought."

"What do you mean?"

"The prince - the K- ," Brandon gritted out. "Rhaegar did not take her. She went with him. It seems...they arranged it all."

His brother - his kind, quiet brother - took a few steps back from him as his face collapsed into disbelief. "That's an awful jape, Brandon."

"It's no jape."

"There was a letter, Ned," he said tiredly. "But we won't know everything until she is back with us. The Queen says they have tried to get word to her and….Rhaegar." The name came out in a growl.

Ned ran one hand over his face, weary and confused. "I feel like we're in some kind of farce, Brandon - and a bad one. How did we end up in the south, in the capital - father dead and Lya missing?"

What was there to say? Every morning when he had awoken the past few weeks in the capital, at first Brandon thought he was in Winterfell - every morning. It always took a few moments before he realized where he was; in what world he now existed.

The only thing he could think to say was the truest emotion in him. "We should never have left Winterfell. We're not meant for the south." His voice shook with a seething frustration.

"Brandon," Ned began quietly. "Did father talk to you of his...his plans with Jon and Lord Tully?"

He looked at his brother cautiously. "A bit. It was...it was to have an alliance to bring some control against Aerys..." His brother looked at him nervously but did not reply. "Ned?"

But before he could answer, the door swung open.

And in the doorway was their little sister.

Lyanna looked wilder than normal, her hair styled in a messy braid. And she wore breeches and a tunic. There was a bit of dirt on her face, and her cheeks looked like they had been slightly burned by the sun, he noted. Her eyes went wide as she looked between the two of them and then suddenly Ned had closed the distance between them.

"Lyanna," Ned whispered into her hair, enveloping her into his arms. "You're safe."

"Ned," she cried, her arms tight around him. "I did not know you would be here, but I am glad for it, brother." After a few moments, they pulled back to look at each other, both with slightly watery smiles. Then she turned to Brandon, moving towards him quickly, still smiling.

Her path was halted when he took two steps back and looked away from her as he shut his eyes tightly.

"First," he said tightly. "Tell me that you that you are well and you have not been hurt."

He could see the uncertainty brewing in her eyes as she tried to understand his wariness. "I have not been hurt," she stated quietly.

Brandon gave a single nod before he spoke once more. "Is it true, then." It was a question but it was stated as fact once the words left his lips.

The only sound, the only response, one that filled the silent and tense room, was a short gasp from Lyanna.

"How did you know?" she finally asked after some moments.

"Is..it...true," Brandon asked once more. Without even looking at his brother, he knew that Ned was watching the two of them with trepidation.

She did not reply with words, but when he looked at her, he saw the answer in the wild but frantic defiance apparent in her eyes.

"It does not matter how I know," he began, trying to remain calm, though he knew he would not succeed. "What matters is that I do, Lya! But tell me there is something I don't know, some piece that will help me understand why you did this!" Brandon yelled.

"I didn't think any of this would happen!" she shouted, her voice breaking.

"What did you think would happen? Hmm? Tell me, were you just going to hide away the rest of your life?"

"Well I didn't think you'd come barging into the red keep, Brandon!"

"Lya," Ned whispered, breaking the tension between his siblings. "You went with him? Truly? He did not kidnap you?"

"Brother…" she uttered. She could never get mad at Ned. Brandon, always. Benjen - a bit. But Ned - never. The sparseness of her words made her answer clear enough. "I did not want to marry Robert, I told you what he was like. And Rhaegar…we wrote to each other after Harrenhal."

Ned looked at her and the shock was all too clear but more than that, it was the look of betrayal that defined his reaction. Cold and pure.

It was clear Lyanna was struggling to find the words. And then it seemed like something clicked and she turned her attentions back on her eldest brother. "Why did you come here like that, Brandon?" she asked desperately.

He gazed at their little sister, his grey eyes piercing her with anger and hurt in equal parts. "Do you think so little of us that we would not look for you? Of me?" he asked with a bite. "That I wouldn't do everything to make sure you were safe?"

"But I was safe!"

Then he laughed, harsh and bitter. "Mayhaps if you'd bothered to tell us, we'd have known that, wouldn't we? But you did it all in secret."

She flinched and Brandon knew then that she knew he was right. "You would have stopped me, father would have," she whispered roughly.

"Aye, so we would have. But you didn't tell us and now look where we find ourselves!"

"It's not my fault!" she shouted indignantly.

"ENOUGH!"

Brandon and Lyanna's heads both snapped towards their normally quiet brother, who had remained silent most of the conversation until now.

Ned looked at them both, rage and a crushing pain taking over his eyes. Then he sat in a chair wearily, resting his head in one hand.

"You fighting with each other won't bring father back." His eyes remained closed as he rubbed his forehead, as though the motion would erase the events that brought them to this moment.

"It won't," Brandon agreed. "But she needs to know, Ned. Father always let her do as she pleased -"

"He didn't!" Lyanna shouted in defense. "He wouldn't even let me learn how to wield a sword, let alone have a say in my life! And I'm right here, don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

"Brandon, Lya, please -" Ned interjected but to no avail.

"You're here now, Lyanna," Brandon said, his tone low and warning. "But where were you when father burned in the throne room?"

Her eyes went wide as silence engulfed the room before Brandon spoke again.

"Where were you when I nearly strangled myself to death, trying to reach for a sword, reach father, wondering how I would get to you, where you were!"

"I didn't know...I didn't know you were hurt as well."

Brandon laughed at that. "You didn't know? Didn't your silver prince tell you?" She made no reply which was answer enough. Silence was always more revealing than words, of course. "No? He hid the truth, did he? I suppose he's used to the smell of burning flesh. I confess, that was new for me."

The tears began to fall from her eyes then and he wondered if he had been too harsh. But she was not the one who would live with the image of their father dying for the rest of their days.

Perhaps by luck for all of them, their argument was broken by a knock at the door.

Was the capital one meeting after another that was interrupted? Brandon wondered, grateful and annoyed all at once. A guard entered without waiting for permission. And why should they? I am, for all intents, a prisoner, if a well treated one.

The young man cleared his throat. "Pardon, m'lords. Your presence is requested by King Rhaegar."

He hated hearing that title. So much.

"Whose presence?"

The young lad blanched. "A - all of you. Including the lady."

"Don't suppose we can say no," Brandon stated darkly and the poor guard opened his mouth to reply though nothing came out. He let out a weary sigh before nodding. "Fine, show us where."


When they entered the room, he had only been expecting the silver fuck.

Instead they were met by a large group, and it felt like the tensions slapped him right in the face the moment they entered.

He saw Rhaegar on one side of the room and next to him was a woman he believed to be his mother, the now Queen Dowager. And then next to her was Elia. They exchanged a nervous glance as she gave him the barest hint of a smile - though he could see the worry in her eyes. He wanted to go back to the morning, to talking and drinking wine together. What a balm that would be right now.

But no, they were now in the middle of what could only be described as an unstable brew of conflicting emotions, goals and desires.

He wondered if this was what made wildfire.

On the other side of the room was Jon Arryn and Robert who sported a look of utter relief when they walked in, his blue eyes landing on Lyanna with a wide smile. And there was someone else with Robert, a woman, Brandon realized, though who - he knew not. But the calm and controlled look on her face instinctively made him wary.

It felt like everyone's eyes were flying around to the various parties, waiting for someone to speak first. He noticed his sister did not make eye contact with either woman who sported the title of Queen.

Of course, it was Robert who broke the tension, moving to the Stark party quickly and straight for Lyanna. Brandon wondered what reception he was expecting. The two barely knew each other. And he certainly does not know the cold truth.

"Lyanna," Robert said, his voice warm and full of emotion. He moved to take her hands in his and her face and body tightened immediately. She looked like she wanted to speak but no words came out.

"As you can see," Rhaegar finally spoke with an even tone, though he seemed displeased by Robert being so close to her. "Lyanna is well, Rob - Lord Baratheon. You can be at ease now."

Robert dropped her hands and he turned in a fury to look at Rhaegar. "Don't try to clean your sins, dragon devil!" he yelled. "Whatever you did will be repaid in kind a hundred times over and - "

"I WANTED TO GO WITH HIM!"

Lyanna's voice was desperate when she shouted for all to hear. And the room went silent.

"He did not kidnap me, Robert," Lyanna reiterated, tired though resolute. "I went with him - by my own will."

Robert turned to look at his former betrothed and the horror coupled with utter disbelief was plain as day. "You're lying. Y-you can't possibly mean that. Why would you say that, Lyanna?"

She let out a breath of exasperation. "It is the truth!"

The storm lord's eyes shifted quickly back to Rhaegar. "What did you do to her?" he asked, somewhere between a roar and a hiss. "Is this some sorcery? Hmm? Did you poison her?"

"There was no trickery, Robert!" Lyanna yelled, interjecting before Rhaegar could even speak. "It was my choice," she finished defiantly.

Brandon exhaled a weary groan, closing his eyes for a moment and wishing he had not let her come - though they had not really been given much of a choice.

"So," the older woman who had been by Robert spoke, cutting the thick, tense silence with her sharp tongue. "This is how House Stark treats it's word, it's honor."

Lyanna turned quickly to the lady, her eyes like a scared but vicious wolf. "Who are you to judge us?"

The look that silver and grey lady gave Lyanna in that moment would have made Tywin Lannister wither. Then she smiled and it sent shivers down Brandon's spine.

"I am Lady Rhaelle Baratheon - some still know me as Princess Rhaelle Targaryen . Robert's grandmother."

"My lady," Lyanna gritted out slowly. "House Stark is honorable."

"Really?" Lady Baratheon drawled. "How odd, I was always under the impression that it was not honorable to break a betrothal. But do tell me more about your honor, Lady Lyanna."

"That's not - I didn't - "

"Are you a Hightower, a Bracken or a Stark?" she pondered falsely as the names rolled over her tongue like heads on the executioner's block.

"You have no right! I -" Before Lyanna could speak further, Brandon grabbed her hand and with every ounce of emotion in his body, he used his gaze to silence her. He hoped for once she would listen.

"Apologies, my lady. My sister did not mean to speak out of turn," he answered, not able to hide his strained tone.

"Is that so?" Rhaelle Baratheon asked darkly. "I suspect she does not care if she speaks out of turn."

Before Lyanna could object again, Rhaella raised a hand to quiet her. "Enough, girl," the older woman said, nearly bored. "If you think you're the one in control here, you're even dimmer than I thought. The rest of my words will be saved for my nephew," the silver-haired woman said as her eyes trailed to Rhaegar.

"Aunt," the King began and Brandon realized then, with beautiful satisfaction, that he was intimidated by this woman. "I would like to make amends for disrupting the betrothal between Lord Robert and Lady Lyanna."

"Disrupting? You've broken it, dear nephew," she said sweetly. "I wonder...you said what you did was done with the noblest of intentions, nephew. If it is all so noble, I wonder then why you did it all so secretly?" Rhaegar gave her no verbal answer, instead only responding with a tight and angry gaze. "Are you such a fool?"

And yet another quiet fell upon the room as she chastened the man that was to be their King. "I hesitate to remind you -" Rhaegar began with an icy tone.

"Oh, do not hesitate!" Rhaelle tittered. "Remind away...nephew."

"I am your King," he seethed.

She looked at him, her chin tilted up. "Say it a few more times and perhaps it shall make you worthy." Robert snorted a laugh at that, looking upon his grandmother with admiration. "Or will you burn me for my insolence? Are you so much like your father that you shall break bonds with your vassals so easily... my King ?" His title was said with such a taunt, it would have better had she not said it at all.

Before the King could reply, the Queen Dowager placed a hand on his arm and gave him a look that Brandon supposed was meant to calm him. "I think it would be best if we reconvened for these discussions - both with House Baratheon and House Stark - with the Small Council." She looked to her son then, telling him with her eyes to concur.

Rhaegar cleared his throat before replying. "Yes, that seems like it would be for the best. I would like for you both to be compensated for your...losses."

Brandon had been so caught up with the tension unfolding between Robert and Lyanna that it had allowed him to push away the one thing that was driving every part of him since that horrible day a few weeks ago.

"Losses? Losses ?" he asked incredulously. "You father burned mine alive and that's what you call simply a loss?" Before the silver-tongued farce of a King could try to sing his way out of this, Brandon stopped him. "Your mother speaks wisely. I'll not have this talk with just you." He pointed a finger at him as his eyes pinned him simultaneously. "Bring your little advisors when we meet, let them explain how you will compensate us for your father killing ours," Brandon growled lowly. "For now, I want to be with my brother and sister as we mourn our loss ." He moved to leave, gesturing for Ned and Lyanna to follow him before they were stopped.

"Wait," Robert called, his voice pure steel. "Tell me."

It was Ned who spoke then. "Robert?" he asked, confused. But his friend's eyes were on Lyanna.

"I deserve to know why."

She looked at him with something akin to a mix of pity and frustration. "We're not suited, Robert. You must see that," she beseeched.

"I don't see that!" he yelled, confusion and anger lacing his voice. There was a pause before he spoke once more. "There's more. I can tell."

She looked down at the ground when she spoke next. "And you...you would never keep to one bed, I know it."

He flinched at the insult - of her truth - before gradually his face reddened in rage. "Is that the tale he told you - or you told yourself before you opened your legs for a married prince?"

"Robert!" Ned yelled, angered and horrified all at once. Brandon wondered who else would disappoint his brother today.

The stormlord blinked at Ned as just the slightest bit of fury seeped away - though only the slightest bit. "Sorry, Ned," he said low and quiet, though there was still danger in his voice.

"I'm no whore, Robert! We married! I am his wife!"

And just like that, in one swift stroke, the room - and perhaps the realm - shifted irrevocably. Brandon looked at Lyanna, his eyes wide in a storm of emotions - anger, shock, shame. He looked to Elia then and saw that the Queen Dowager had clutched one of her hands in her own fiercely. Elia's eyes found his at the same moment, and an unnamed emotion passed between them.

His eyes then shifted to the silver fuck who looked completely unfazed now. "It's really quite simple, you see. She is to be my second wife."

Brandon found himself reeling from the shock of the new admission - and thinking that they had been so close to leaving the room before everything fell apart yet again.

Maybe if I close my eyes, I will wake up and not be in this fucking hell.


Well, I'm not super satisfied with this chapter. I found it really hard to write Lyanna and Robert convincingly. I really don't know how a pre-war/rebellion Robert would react to Lyanna telling him she wanted to go with Rhaegar, but I tried to take some inspiration from Ned and Robert's arguments in AGOT - particularly 'defiance was not a dish he tasted often.' Meep.