"The queen likes you. I wish she liked me as much as she likes you." Sansa says while they walk to the Godswood.
Trust me, you do not want that. Lyanna doesn't say anything to the girl. At one and ten she had to deal with her good mother not liking her. The poor lamb.
Lya did not have that problem, Dorna Swift appeared to like her very much.
But Lyanna was a woman grown at six and ten who had enough time to develop her person before getting a prospective good mother to ruin her self-esteem.
Poor Sansa was thrown into a terrible family at the tender age of one and ten. Jocelyn Swift had said her Aunt Dorna was a nice woman and Kevan Lannister the nicest of the Lannisters.
Sansa had gotten stuck with the bottom of the barrel Lannister wise, or so Senelle had joked.
"Just be yourself and friendship will follow." It was the advice her great aunt, Lyanna Royce, had given her. Of course, Lya was as charming and witty as her namesake, the Lady Royce of Runestone, but there was some hope for Sansa yet.
"Lady Lyanna, my lady, how good it is to see you again." Ser Hugh said panting and out of breath, as if he'd come running from the practice yard to the Godswood. "Your cousin, Ser Robar said you had come south as one of the Queen's ladies and I just could not wait to see you again."
Lyanna the Elder was nearly twenty-five years younger than her eldest brother, Rodrick and had given birth to her last child, Ysilla, three years after Lyanna the Younger was born.
Hugh was to put it plainly, was ugly. He may have been Jon Arryn's squire and his grandson by his bastard daughter, but Lya has been told most men assumed she was flirting with them.
Yes, she can admit she liked being a bit of a coquette, but it was just of the meaningless sort like the one Renly Baratheon does.
Hugh of the Vale had been a boy she met during her fostering at Runestone. He'd been just another boy fancying himself in love with her and imagining she felt the same.
Andar and Robar had said that either Loras or Renly would be asking for her favor for the tourney, she shouldn't have to worry about suitors given the two men didn't like cunt.
Her cousins' friends had been good allies, unfortunately, they were all male. Uncle Yohn refused to let his daughters come here after Queen Cersei made Ysilla cry the last time they were in this pigsty. Cousin Gisella was long married to an Arryn of Gulltown, cousin Camilla had joined the faith -to her aunt's displeasure- after the Mountain Clansmen ruined her and cousin Drusilla was too happy at the Gates of the Moon with Myranda Royce.
The reach ladies and the remaining Crownland's women were good company, but Lyanna would kill to have her cousins here.
Lancel had a jealous streak, especially when it came to all the much more handsome and slightly older knights with lands and charm and good conversation. Even surly Hugh was a better at conversation than Lance the Dunce.
"Likewise, Ser Hugh, although last time we saw each other you were Lord Arryn's squire. Congratulations on your knighting, ser." She said with a pleasant smile.
"I wish I could wear your favor to the Hand's Tourney, but Lord Renly has already bragged to all and sundry that he will be wearing it." He sounded disappointed; he'd be even more disappointed to know it wouldn't move her heart enough to let him wear it.
"Won't your betrothed be joining the tourney. Lyanna?" Sansa asked innocently, reminding Lyanna that she hadn't made introductions.
"Oh, dear me, I forgot to make introductions. Ser Hugh, this is my kinswoman, Lady Sansa, daughter of the new Lord Hand. Sansa this is Ser Hugh of the Vale, former squire to the late Lord Arryn." Here in the south, Lyanna was a kinswoman of Lord Stark, not his niece. His will had been amended, but until he and his sons died, Lyanna was daughter of William and her being a bastard was just a vicious rumor.
"My Lady Sansa, an honor to meet you." He said, bowing in greeting with all the pretentiousness of a peacock.
If he had been better looking, maybe he would've had the desired response, but he must make do with Sansa's shy tittering. A girl of eleven could feel flattered by any knight, especially a girl as simple as Sansa. But the knight must be comely to do so, sadly Hugh is not.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser. I am so sorry for the loss of your liege lord; father says he was the best of men." The red-haired girl said courteously.
"Yes, Lord Arryn was a great man." And his grandfather. Hugh's grandmother had been the lady companion of one of his late wives and his only lover. Alayne then gave him a comely daughter by the name of Sara who then married a hedge knight in his service.
Hugh's family name was Featherstone, settled near Runestone, and vassals of House Royce.
If the gossip Myranda had written to her was true, this homely boy in front of her was the true heir of House Arryn.
It had sounded too obvious, a red-haired woman with no history of brown hair cannot give a blonde man whose own daughter had hair almost as fair as a Targaryen a brown-haired son. Myra Royce had implied that Lysa had been seen leaving Littlefinger's rooms roughly nine years ago and the man had been none the wiser.
If Catelyn Tully knew her sister had raped a man, she'd die. Even more reason to tell mother in her next letter.
"Will Lord Stark permit you to attend the tourney, Lady Sansa?" he changed the topic and the ladies allowed him to escort them to the Heart Tree.
"Yes, father has said I can go as long as I take my younger sister and our Septa. Have you considered who you will crown your queen of love and beauty?" the girl asked almost giddy with excitement.
"If Bronze Yohn and your cousins won't kill me after, I hope to give Lady Lyanna the laurel. I believe the Kingslayer is the only man who isn't thinking about crowning her at the tourney." The blonde knight said unknowingly crushing the little girl's dreams.
"Her grace will not like that, she has already taken last moons wages because Tom of Seven Streams wrote a song about me." Lya gave a wry smile.
"I will reimburse you when I win, my lady, never fear." He chuckled. Cersei's foul manners were known by everyone and their dog.
"Lyanna, why does the queen hate you?" Arya asked to everyone's chagrin.
Lucky for Arya, Ned Stark had been detained by his new occupation.
"Because I look like the King's dead true love, sweetling. She's afraid his grace will throw her over now that she is old and haggard at two and thirty." Lyanna answered just as casually as the girl had asked, making the rest of the dinner guests try to contain their reaction to her words.
Ned Stark often asked her to dine with them and was jumping through hoops to get the queen to allow her to join his household.
Her rooms at court were terrible, but it gave her the freedom to overhear many things. Lya wouldn't mind better accommodations, even if she had to share with either girl.
"Why do you look like Father's sister?" she then asked again.
"My Dustin grandmother, Lady Rhea of the Gates of the Moon Royces, was the granddaughter of Lady Jocelyn Royce, who was born a Stark. All the Royces look northern, especially since Lady Royce was born a Ryswell." This was a sore topic, but Lya was used to lying about it and answered with ease as she continued eating her soup. "If I stand under her portrait at Barrow Hall, you can hardly see a difference." She whispered making the girls giggle.
"We met a knight today, Ser Hugh of the Vale, he said he will crown Lyanna at the Tourney should he win." Sansa interjected excitedly, even Arya was excited about the tourney.
"I heard from the gardener's daughter the laurel will be blue winter roses to honor House Stark." The Septa said calmly. "I would be most careful, my lady."
"I thank you for your advice, Septa Mordane, but they will have to get past Uncle Yohn and Lord Stark." Lyanna said trying to avoid any thoughts on how tomorrow can be ruined. "Lyanna the Elder is adamant about keeping me from suffering Lyanna Stark's fate."
"It isn't her fault her betrothed is not a knight yet, Septa." Sansa came to her defense. It had annoyed Sansa that Lyanna's betrothed was still a squire who couldn't prove his love for her with a tourney crown. More than it had ever annoyed Lyanna.
Lyanna didn't care about Lancel, she felt her time was better spent making friends and helping Ned Stark's investigations into Jon Arryn's death. Lyanna had a feeling Cersei -the smarter one in the incestuous duo- was the one who produced the idea of killing the old man.
And there was only one way to know what happened that night Jon Arryn became ill.
One that did not please her at all.
Lyanna must give her favor to Ser Hugh.