The wind fluttered around Lyanna as Uncle Edmure failed to set the boat's sail on fire for the third time.
The eldest daughter of King Robert and Catelyn Tully bowed her head to hide the pain soaring through her heart. She pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear – a habit of hers when she was in thought. If she had the power to decide her home, she would have chosen Riverrun. During her frequent visits (especially in her childhood), Grandfather Hoster would be the father she craved for. Lyanna's father might be the king, but truthfully, he was not a good father. He never went near a goblet of wine, but it hurt Lyanna that her royal father preferred to spend his time hunting or bedding a long host of prostitutes.
Zzzing!
Lyanna looked up. Great Uncle Blackfish had successfully lit the sail on fire. In his weary blue eyes was grief. Since Lyanna was able to quietly listen to talk from passing servants or courtiers, she learnt about the famous story of the Blackfish and Lord Rowan's wife, Lady Bethany Redwyne. What a tale it was! She watched the funeral boat flow downstream of the Red Fork. Before the illness caught him, he would give her splendid gifts in person on every name day. Once it was a plate of lemon cakes and a silver trout necklace; another time Grandfather gifted her with a small chest made of weirwood that was carved with trout and stag motifs; and on her tenth birthday, he treated her to a tour of the Riverlands. From all her name day gifts, Lyanna loved and remembered the Riverlands tour the best. She visited the castles of every River lord and the entire expedition lasted roughly a week and a few days. Her heart thudded. The Riverlands tour was Grandfather's last long journey too.
"Lyanna," her mother said gently. "Come. There will be lords wishing to offer their condolences to us."
"Why isn't Father here?" murmured Lyanna, staring as the boat disappeared downstream. "Grandfather was his good-father."
Mother gave her a strained smile. "Your father is a busy man. A king no less. If he was able to come, he would. Your grandfather helped him win a war – that is something he would never forget. Come. The lords are waiting. Do you think you will be able to manage on your own for a while?" Lyanna nodded. She knew what was expected of her. "Go and rest Mother," she said softly. "No one expects you to remain here for condolences. Your father died – it is in your right to mourn your father in private. I'll handle all the lords here. Go and rest Mother. I know you've not slept well during our journey here."
"The lords will think it a slight-"
"No they wouldn't," said Lyanna soothingly. "They are mostly River lords and they knew you since you were little. They will understand."
Mother nodded reluctantly. "I will join you at supper," she said uncertainly. "If it is too much, come to me."
"I will Mother." Giving her a kiss on the cheek, Mother excused herself and left for her chambers swiftly, two of her knights trailing behind her. With a quiet sigh, Lyanna headed to the Great Hall and approached her uncle Edmure, his blue eyes glazed with tears. "Uncle," she greeted. "My sincere condolences."
"Thank you princess," Uncle Edmure responded. "My father had held you close to his heart since you were born. When he was in the right mind, he would often talk about the tour of the Riverlands he took you on when you were a little girl of ten. It was one of his most fondest memories."
"He must be proud of you too Uncle."
"Lysa should've been here." He glanced at Sansa Arryn a few feet away. "Until he died, Father was calling for her. It is good of Sansa to come here, but I fear that Father would've died more content if Lysa saw him."
"Aunt Lysa must have reason not to come here." Lyanna would've spoke more but caught sight of Lord Bracken approach them. "Princess Lyanna," the Bracken lord said with a dip of his head. "Lord Tully. Condolences for your loss on behalf of House Bracken. Lord Hoster was a good man. A kind liege lord."
"Thank you Lord Bracken. Much appreciated."
"If you need aid in any way Lord Tully, you can trust me." Lord Bracken gave Lyanna a benign smile which turned into a scowl as his life long rival Lord Tytos Blackwood came towards them. "I will…go," said Lyanna hastily. Blackwood and Bracken feuds could erupt into violence very quickly. She hurried away and met up with Sansa, Aunt Lysa's daughter. Upon closer examination, Sansa didn't seem like the same girl she was at King's Landing a while ago. "Cousin Sansa," Lyanna said warmly. "Such a dismal time to meet do you not agree?" Sansa smiled at her and nodded. "I hope Grandfather died peacefully," she murmured. "He did naught to deserve a painful death." She shuddered. "Your mother must be quite upset at Grandfather's passing."
"We all are sweet cousin. Uncle Edmure will be an excellent Lord of Riverrun, but I doubt Riverrun will be the same again."
Sansa nodded in agreement. "No more surprise lemon cakes."
A giggle escaped Lyanna's lips. She had quite forgotten that Sansa loved lemon cakes as much as she did. Now that she thought about it, all her younger brothers and sister loved lemon cakes – especially Minisa (her first couple of words were 'le-mon' and 'ca-ake'). Mother often jested that Minisa would grow into a plump little ball of sweetness when she was older. "There's a big platter of lemon cakes over there," Lyanna noticed, nodding at a long table groaning under the weight of plates of food and flagons of drink. "Shall we go and nibble a few?"
"I see Melia already started without us," Sansa commented. Her eyes twinkled a little. "Oh, Cousin Hoster is with her too." The two of them walked up to Hoster and Melia who were, to no one's surprise, arguing again.
"Do you argue with your siblings as much as they do?" Sansa asked Lyanna. I wish we did. Lyanna shook her head. "I see them less frequently than I hope," she said honestly. "Minisa is too little to talk or argue with and the boys…we're often too occupied with our duties to argue. Ormund has Bran Stark for company and by the end of the day, Orys would be too tired. At times we would only say 'good morning' or 'good night' to each other. Uncle Stannis had insisted that as the heir, Orys is to sit in a few council meetings as well as continue his education."
"Poor Orys. Is he here?"
"Not yet. It was decided that Orys will come here a few days later. Orys is very excited about it and Uncle Stannis thought it would be educational for him to get to know his future subjects and different geographical locations or something. It is quite typical of Uncle Stannis to bring an educational reason into a game or in a journey." She refrained herself from rolling her eyes.
"…you're not Lord of Riverrun yet," Melia was saying, holding a lemon cake in one hand and a blackberry tart with the other. She spotted Lyanna and Sansa and beamed brightly. "There you are! I was about to look for you!" Once you finish a lemon cake or two. "Arguing again?" said Lyanna dryly. "Surely you have run out of topics of argument by now! What is it this time? Melia, did you embarrass your brother in front of visiting lords?"
"Princess Lyanna," said Cousin Hoster with a quick bow.
"Please, call me Lyanna. We're cousins after all."
"Very well, Lyanna."
"Hoster is under the delusion that I'm flirting with the boys here," said Melia, glaring at her brother. "I never flirt."
"You were," Hoster insisted.
"I doubt it," said Lyanna with a smile. "Melia is too well-behaved to flirt. Melia, Hoster is a good brother who is looking out for you. I'd be grateful if he was my brother." Melia frowned. "Orys will never accuse you of flirting."
"Just stay away from that Stark boy." He began to walk away. "Cousin!" Lyanna called. "Will you not taste a lemon cake?" Hoster paused. "I dislike lemon cakes," he said rather stiffly. "I find them too sweet."
"Ignore him," Melia advised her. "He's always a grouchy soul. Mother said it's his own way of mourning Grandfather. Accusing me of flirting! Hmmph!" Rolling her eyes, she nibbled her lemon cake. "Why is your betrothed here?" she asked as she finished it. "It is odd do you not think? He is no River lord's heir. I do wonder why he is here with his half-brother and Theon Greyjoy."
Lyanna nodded. "I do too."
"Hmm."
Sansa arched an eyebrow. "You're not planning to speak to him again are you? Your brother already thinks you flirt. Foolish of him too."
Melia looked thoughtful. "Oh no," said Lyanna, catching a glimpse of a gleam in her eyes. "You're going to flirt with him aren't you?"
"That is quite unladylike," said Sansa uncertainly. Lyanna nodded slightly. She appalled the very idea of it. Melia crossed her arms. "Do you know what those of the North have started saying?" Lyanna shook her head. "They are comparing the weak and frightened to me," said Melia, shaking with rage. "I thought it was just a rumour, but Hoster told me that he heard Lord Stark's bastard say to Robb Stark, 'are you too afraid like that Melia Tully?'" Lyanna stifled a smile. "I'll show those Northerners I am not afraid!" Melia ranted on. "In fact, I'll wager two lemon cakes that I'll have a lengthy conversation with…with Theon Greyjoy!" She blushed. "I'll go to him right now if I must!" For a second, Lyanna wondered if Melia consumed a goblet or two of summer wine. Melia Tully was never this bold before…on the other hand, the results would be interesting. Very interesting indeed. When she met Theon Greyjoy, she thought him too cocky for his own good.
"Oh don't Melia," Sansa pleaded. "The thought of it is horrible enough!"
"Your Vale friend flirts all the time," Melia pointed out.
"Randa! Myranda Royce is older than us and-"
"Come now Cousin Sansa! Any day now your mother would summon you back home. Don't you want to see something fun before you leave?"
"I don't see how you flirting with Theon Greyjoy twice is fun."
"Well…that and annoying my brother again."
"Theon Greyjoy isn't like the honourable Starks Grandfather had talked about in his stories," Lyanna warned. She heard the tale of her namesake Lady Lyanna's abduction over a dozen times – a story her father thoroughly enjoyed retelling – and if she had to compare Theon to a Stark, the closest she could come to was the Lady Lyanna's brother, Brandon Stark. "Your parents will be most upset if Theon um, takes away-"
"I'm not that stupid." Melia rolled her eyes. "Do you honestly believe I will give away my maidenhead so freely like a woman from the brothels?"
"Theon can be persuasive," Lyanna said doubtfully. "Do you remember him in Winterfell? I don't like the look he was giving us."
"He'll be a fool if he tries to seduce me. Father will have his head. I'll just go up to him and…talk."
"He is much older than you."
"So? Poor Lady Joyeuse Erenford is married to Walder Frey." Both Lyanna and Sansa shuddered simultaneously. Lyanna wondered how Lady Frey's father even agreed to marry his daughter to that creepy old man. She cringed as she recalled the banquet at the Twins she was obliged to attend during her Riverlands trip. It was the dullest and most dreadful moment in the entire tour. Grandfather had no desire to visit the Twins, but knew it would be a slight if they didn't.
"Take care," said Lyanna with a defeated sigh. "I hope you'll be delighted when your brother finds out. Tell us what happens afterwards." She ignored the rather shocked look Sansa shot her. It was not much fun playing the part of a gracious and simpering princess every day, especially in a court sprouted with flatterers and schemers. Living in the harsh, honest North was something Lyanna actually looked forward to.
"Princess Lyanna." Lyanna turned and smiled as Robb approached. "On behalf of House Stark, I offer you our condolences."
"Thank you my lord," Lyanna answered. "How is Lady Lyarra?"
"In excellent health though unhappy that she must be parted from Domeric for a few months very shortly," Robb Stark responded courteously. "Lord Bolton had requested for his son to return to the Dreadfort for some time. I strongly suspect that Lyarra will ask Father to join him. She is still young, but old enough to live in her future husband's home."
When was he so polite? He sounded more kind in his letters…"How are your other sisters and brothers?"
"Quite well too my princess."
"My lord, I thought we are friends!"
Robb smiled slightly. "So we are, Lyanna. So we are." He glanced at Sansa. "My lady, may I have a minute or two alone with the princess?" A little startled, Sansa nodded. She smiled at Lyanna and edged away to talk to a Blackwood lady. "I am glad you are well," said Robb awkwardly.
"I am too," Lyanna said uncertainly.
"To be honest, Lyanna, I am not only here to pay my condolences. I wanted to come here to see you." Robb's cheeks flooded with colour. "I know that there will be little to no chance of seeing you again. The king will not visit Winterfell again, and my father will not send me to King's Landing in a great hurry. I'd hoped that we would meet again…before we wed."
Lyanna nodded. "I hoped for that too," she admitted truthfully. "A few days in Winterfell with you and your family…I wanted more time. I wished to learn more about you, your sisters, your brothers, your father, your mother, the North…I…I wanted to learn to be a Northerner before I married you. I didn't want to be seen as a stranger or a plain southroner when I become your wife."
Robb stared at her, astonished. "Lyanna! You have already impressed all of my father's lords on the night of the welcome feast! The lords of the North know you are no plain southroner – you're the king's daughter! The lords all know that our fathers have been friends since they were boys and are pleased to receive you as my future wife and the next Lady of Winterfell. Lyarra speaks highly of you and even Arya likes you! You have nothing to worry about, Lyanna. There will always be a place for you in Winterfell." He smiled at her. "Have I rid you of all your fears, my lady Lyanna?"
"Every single one of them my lord Robb. I thought we would wed in Winterfell, but my father insists for it to be held in King's Landing."
"In the Great Sept of Baelor?"
"No, no. In the godswood. It isn't as beautiful as your Winterfell godswood, but my father wants our wedding to be memorable. He said that there will be days of feasting and tournaments."
Robb shuddered. "Your father does not expect me to compete in the tourneys does he?" he asked worriedly. "I never actually participated in them before…" His voice trailed off.
"You can participate in the melee. Think of it like…like a training session."
"People often die in melees."
"I saw you train at Winterfell." Sensing her betrothed's queasiness on jousting and fighting in melees, Lyanna changed the subject. "Is Grey Wind here?"
"In the kennels. Grey Wind will frighten the other River lords if I allowed him to roam Riverrun. Lord Tully will not be pleased either." He hesitated. "Lyanna, I know this is quite a lot to ask, but…can you do me a favour?"
"Of course."
"When Bran left for King's Landing, he left his direwolf behind. It was fine, but now he started howling at night and nothing we do can quieten him. Our maester suggests that the direwolf longs to reunite with his master. According to old texts in Winterfell's library, direwolves have strong relationships with their masters. I am not going to King's Landing, but you are."
Lyanna's mouth dropped open. "You want me to take a direwolf back to King's Landing for Bran? A howling direwolf?"
Robb looked sheepish. "Yes my lady. Bran's direwolf is very well-behaved. He won't bite or harm you."
What would Mother think of it? "I…I must think about it my lord," said Lyanna, her mind reeling through shock and disbelief. "I have no desire to separate Bran from his direwolf, but I don't know what direwolves eat, and I don't know how to care for one. What do I tell my mother?"
"Take your time thinking about it Lyanna. If you agree, meet me at the kennels tomorrow morning. Take your friends with you if you so wish. I've written down a list of helpful instructions to help you. He won't be much trouble."
"What is his name?"
"Bran hadn't named him yet. Calling him 'Bran's direwolf' is a handful."
"Where does Grey Wind sleep at night?"
"In my room as Ghost sleeps in Jon's, Lady in Lyarra's and Nymeria in Arya's. It saves space for other dogs in the kennels. Besides, Nymeria refuses to leave Arya at all!" Lyanna forced herself to smile, but she could not imagine her married life including sharing a bedchamber with her husband's pet direwolf. What next? At breakfast she'll be forced to share a plate of bacon with Grey Wind?
"At times Grey Wind wanders Winterfell's corridors," Robb went on. "He does not sleep at the foot of my bed every night."
"Must we um, share a room with Grey Wind when we are wed?" asked Lyanna, regret stabbing her immediately. "Would it not be odd if um, if he watches us, um, fulfil our duty and bring forth an heir?"
Robb blushed. "By the gods I haven't thought of that. I'll arrange for Grey Wind to be in the kennels when we sleep as a married couple. My sincere apologies if I have offended you in any way."
"I accept your apology Robb." Lyanna smiled at him again. "I've kept all of the letters you sent me."
"I did too. I was actually in the middle of writing you one before I set out with Jon and Theon for Riverrun."
"Oh? What were you writing?"
Before Robb could answer, Melia ran up to her, grinning from ear to ear. "You should have seen Hoster's face," she announced triumphantly. He beam vanished as she caught sight of Robb. "Forgive me for my unladylike outburst my lord," she said, red in the face.
"All is forgiven Lady Melia," said Robb smoothly. He nodded at Lyanna. "I hope to see you a second time before our departures my princess. Again, House Stark's condolences for your lord grandfather's death. My father considered it an honour to fight alongside him and he greatly respected him. I wish your lord uncle Tully well as the new Lord of Riverrun." He nodded at Melia. "Lady Melia. Condolences on your grandfather's death."
"Thank you my lord," replied Melia. She and Lyanna watched Robb join Theon again. Lyanna looked at her cousin. "How was it?"
"I pity him," said Melia flatly. Lyanna raised an eyebrow. "You pity him?" That was certainly not what she expected to hear.
"He misses home yet he puts on a brave face. All those rumours of him…Theon didn't sound proud of it as much as I thought he would. He is different from what I heard about him."
"He is trying to charm you," said Sansa, joining them. "This Theon sounds like my um betrothed, Harrold Hardyng."
"You should stay away from him," Lyanna advised. "Charming or otherwise, I don't think your father will approve of you talking to a man like him. Perhaps one time is enough. Twice is too much."
Melia sighed. Her eyes brightened. "Lemon cake?"
I'll try and regularly upload one or two chapters on Fridays or on the weekends from now on, but I might spontaneously decide to upload one during the week depending on my mood. Haha House Frey should have an appendix of its own! I actually copied out the list of Freys (in case Internet dies on me unexpectedly, which actually happened once last week) and wow that took up a lot of space! :)
