Goodness in the world

A Song of Ice and Fire, and all associated media, are the property of George R. R. Martin.

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Lyanna was content to follow Randy's lead, trailing silently behind him. She eyed the inn before them, scrunching her nose at the stench of the nearby stables. The stables in Winterfell never smelled that bad—maybe it had to do with the cold?

Randy opened the door to the tavern. It smelled pleasant, if almost overwhelmed by stale ale. It wasn't packed, with a fair few tables free—most likely because it was only a little bit after noon. They'd just missed the crowd.

"Just grab a seat wherever," the matron—a plump, comely woman with graying black hair said from behind the counter. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Thank you," Randy called out in a somewhat northern accent—as if he'd only heard his parents speak it. He bowed lightly to Lyanna. "After you, cousin."

Ah right, their little ruse. As she brushed past him, an important thought came to her. "What're our names?" she whispered.

"Richard and Lyn. Now calm down!" He hissed. "You look like a virgin walking into a brothel." Lyanna did her best not to scowl—this was easily the worst plan she'd ever taken part of! The schemes she'd roped her brothers into to steal sweets from the kitchens were more complex than this!

Randy led them to a small table opposite the door, a bit too close to a couple of other men—one with no hair anywhere on his head, the other with more hair than head—nursing their drinks for Lyanna's liking, but she literally could not complain about it. He pulled out a seat for her, and sat down in the chair facing the door.

The matron stopped at their table, a tired smile on her face. "Welcome to the Eastern Face Inn! Never seen you two around before. I'm Ginny. What do you need, hm?"

Lyanna kept her eyes glued to the table. Randy easily picked up the slack. "Some ale"—his accent had changed, becoming a near perfect mix of Riverlands and Northern—"something to eat. Preferably hot." He chuckled sheepishly. "And if it's not too much trouble, would you happen to have a horse or mule in that stable—and maybe an old cart—you'd be willing to part with?" Lyanna tensed as Ginny arched a brow, and the two men near them turned to fully look at them. She only calmed down when she felt Randy pat her hand. He didn't look at her, but Lyanna's racing heart slowed down to a much more manageable pace within seconds.

Ginny hummed, gaze suspicious as she looked between Randy and Lyanna. "Think we still have some stew left in the pot. But…I'm afraid parting with a horse is gonna take some convincing."

"What're a couple of kids like you doing here without a horse?" the bearded man asked.

A blush appeared on Randy's face. "Well, it's a little embarrassing." If he wanted to ward their little crowd off, he failed—in fact, now every eye was one them. He let out a breath. "Okay, fuck me, I guess. Uh, well, me and my cousin here are from the Riverlands—farmers, our whole family—and we joined a small caravan of other farmers heading to the Citadel looking to get our hands on those strange, magic seeds they've been raving about."

Whatever Lyanna had been expecting, it wasn't for a wave of tired groans to sound out around them, all but Ginny and the two men closest to them losing interest in the tall tale.

Ginny tutted sympathetically. "Oh dear…but, if you were with a caravan—"

"Why do we need a horse?" Randy cut her off. He sneered—a look so dark and murderous Lyanna almost forgot he was acting. He spat on the floor. "Our 'leader' lost everything we had either gambling or to some big-titted whore in Oldtown."

Ginny gasped. "No!"

"I know," Randy groaned, dropping his head in his hands. "Should have known better than to trust the bastard—he's been a fucking idiot since we were kids." He let out a breath. "Managed to bum our way with other travelers. But no one's heading up north—or at least, no one willing to bring us along—so I've gotta buy a horse and cart, now. And supplies, at the nearest town."

Ginny tutted sympathetically. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." She shifted guiltily. "But…if you don't have coin…"

"How much for two meals?" Randy asked.

"One silver and two copper."

Randy hummed and looked down into his shirt. He pulled at the collar, and reached a hand in. He had out the required coin in his hands, and set it on the table. "We do have coin—not much, though. If you need any work done—"

"Now, now." Ginny smiled softly as she took the coins. "We can discuss that after you've got some food in your bellies."

"Thank you," Randy said. Ginny nodded, and shifted her gaze to Lyanna.

"T-Thank you." Lyanna winced at her stutter, but given the way Ginny's gaze softened, it just helped Randy's tale of the pair being put-upon children. Ginny sent them a beaming smile before turning around and entering the kitchen.

Beside them, the bearded man scoffed into his mug. "You two—and that whole caravan of yours—were damn fools thinking you could get those seeds."

Randy scowled. "Well, I know that now!" He turned away with a huff. "Forgive me for not knowing that the Maesters have those things locked up tighter than the Maiden's cunt."

The bald man smiled apologetically at them. "Ah, don't beat yourself up too bad, son. Not even Reacher lords are able to get their hands on those things so easily."

"Really?" Randy leaned over the table—the curiosity in his eyes was real, Lyanna could see. "I'd always thought the Citadel gave the Reach first pickings of whatever they made up."

"They do," the bald man said with a laugh. "But not this time. My wife's sister's cousin's milkbrother is a knight for House Florent, and he told him, who told her, who told my wife, that the Florents have been all sour because their requests for those seeds keep getting rejected. Apparently, the Citadel is hand-selecting certain houses to test out the seeds in each kingdom before giving them out to everyone."

Lyanna recalled her father mentioning something about crops from the Reach. In fact, part of the reason he stayed behind in Winterfell instead of attending Brandon's wedding—aside from his self-admission that he practically melts anywhere south of the Neck—was to determine which of their bannermen had the most and least fertile lands. It must have been to decide who among them received the crops for testing.

Randy sighed. "Damn. If Reach lords can't easily get their hands on those seeds, then I guess the likes of us are shit outta luck."

"That's just how the world is, boy," the bearded one said.

"It's not so bad," the bald one said. "I imagine this was the first time you two ever went further than your local villages."

"Yeah," Randy replied. He leaned back in his seat, wonder shining in his eyes. "Westeros…it's a big place."

The bald man nodded along with Randy's words. The bearded man just grunted, but he lost a bit of his edge.

Ginny came by with their meals soon after. Bread, stew, and ale. She still looked at Randy queerly, but was all smiles towards Lyanna. "Pot was still hot, so the stew's warm."

"Thank you!" Randy said, quickly tearing into the meal. Lyanna eyed his messy eating with disgust—but the man also ate a canoe so really, what was she expecting?—and ate her own meal much more calmly.

It was good, she could admit.

"Hey." Lyanna and Randy looked up at the voice to see the bald man and bearded man had risen from their table. "Here," the bearded man said, and tossed a few copper coins onto the table. "Next time, don't follow an idiot."

Randy scooped up the coins with a smile. "Believe me, I won't!"

The bearded man nodded, and left without another word. The bald man smiled and waved at them, and did the same.

Lyanna took a long drink of ale. "Did you know those men?"

"Nope," Randy said, dropping the coins into his shirt.

"Then why did they give us coin—little as it is?"

Randy blinked. "Do you have to know someone to want to help them?"

"Well, no, but…" Lyanna didn't know how to put it into words. The idea of someone doing something for nothing wasn't unknown to her. While not strictly encouraged in the North—being too kind was liable to get yourself and whoever you were helping killed in winter—such a trait was praised.

She supposed it had to do with the fact that last person to seemingly help her out of the goodness of their heart was fuck-face. And he was the crown prince of Westeros! If he couldn't be trusted, who could?

Immediately, her heart told her she could still trust her family—and Randy. She didn't know how or why she knew that to be true, but she did.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

Ginny returned soon after they finished. "How much coin do you have?" she asked Randy as she cleaned the table.

He looked into his shirt. "Uh…twenty silver and…nine coppers."

Ginny pursed her lips. "You said you can work?"

"I can repair almost anything that needs fixing," Randy replied.

"I can sew," Lyanna belatedly added. She wouldn't let Randy do all the work for them.

Ginny shook her head, smiling softly at Lyanna. "Don't need any sewing done, but we've got an old cart with a broken axle. If you can fix that up, you'll only have to pay eight silver for our old mare—I'll include some feed for her too."

"How much for three days' worth of dried food and waterskins?"

"That'd cost you another silver."

"Deal," Randy replied, placing the coin on the table.

Ginny smiled as she counted the coin. "Alright then! You come with me dearie," she said to Lyanna. "Let's get you those rations. The cart's at the far right of the stable, right next to Mulberry, the old mare you'll be taking. Palomino, dark spots on white, you can't miss her." she said to Randy. Randy nodded, sent Lyanna a wave goodbye, and left the building.

Ginny led her into the kitchen. Her husband was standing over an oven, and a young boy that must have been her son was cleaning dishes over a washing pot. Ginny's turned around, and Lyanna was taken aback at the fierce frown on her face. She took Lyanna's hands into her own "Are you alright?"

Lyanna jerked back with a blink. "W-What?"

"You've been crying," Ginny said. "And while that man's good—really good—I know a liar when I hear one. We're not much, but I can get a few of the men out there to help while my son goes into town and gets some guards!"

Lyanna jerked stepped back against the wall. "W-What? No, I—" Ginny's husband and son were looking at her now. They wore the same determined expressions as Ginny. Lyanna's heart swelled with warmth. She sniffled, but managed to not cry. "T-Thank you, but I'm fine. That man out there…he actually saved me from the men that hurt me."

"Oh?" Ginny and her family sighed with relief. Ginny held a hand over her heart. "That's so good to hear." Only for her face to harden again. "Wait, but what about these other men? The ones that hurt you? Are they—e"

"Don't!" Lyanna winced as her voice came out louder than intended. "Don't ask me about them, please. For your own sakes, please, don't do any more than you already are." She licked her lips. "In fact, if anyone comes asking about us, be honest with them."

Ginny and her husband both took in a hiss of air—their son just looked confused. Thankfully, neither husband nor wife asked anymore questions. Instead, Ginny directed her to a stool on the other side of the room.

"Alright then, just sit her and relax a touch. I'll get those rations together and then we'll check on your man." She straightened out Lyanna's hair with a soft smile—it'd been ages since someone mothered her, she sadly noted.

Ginny started moving around the kitchen with a sack, and her husband returned to the oven. But her son just stared at Lyanna. She plastered a smile on her face. "Yes?"

"Are you eloping?" the boy bluntly asked. Lyanna both paled and blushed at his words. Paled, because that is what Rhaegar was planning to do with her. Blushed, because, it seemed wherever she went she'd be plagued by thoughts of marriage.

"Harald!" Ginny scolded her son.

"What?" the boy asked his mother. "That's what always happen with crying ladies from Isle of Faces." Oh, and it turns out fuck-face wasn't even being original when he took her to the Isle of Faces. Figures.

Ginny yanked on her son's ear. "You don't ask people such things, you brat! A person's personal life isn't your business to pry into."

Th boy cupped his ear and scowled at his mother. "Says the busybody."

"Another word out of you and I'll have you mucking out the stables naked as the day you were born!"

"Don't mind them." Lyanna jumped in her seat, and turned to see Ginny's husband smiling softly at her, a muffin in his hands. "They're so alike they can't help but butt heads. Here"—he held up the pastry—"for you."

Lyanna took the muffin. "Thank you. And it's no problem." She stared back onto Ginny and Harald. Their row reminded her of her family in Winterfell. "…It's easy to see how much the two love each other." Ginny's husband hummed, sending Lyanna another smile before returning to his tasks.

By the time Lyanna finished her muffin, Ginny and Harald ended their argument, acting as if it never occurred. Ginny walked up to Lyanna, and held up the sack in her hands. "Got enough water and food to last you three days in here. More than enough to get you into the next village and buy some proper supplies."

"Thank you," Lyanna said, and rose to her feet. She bowed. "I promise, I shall repay you for this kindness."

"Oh no, none of that." Ginny waved her off with a laugh. "You just get yourself safe and scarce, that's reward enough for me. Now c'mon, let's see how far along your friend is with that cart."

It turned out, Randy had finished repairs, and was attaching the cart to Mulberry outside the stables.

Ginny eyed the cart in wonder. "My…that was fast."

"I know what I'm doing," Randy replied. "Would you like to drive the cart?" he asked Lyanna. She shook her head—she could ride better than most, but never learned how to operate a cart or anything similar. "Fair enough." He smacked the side of the cart. "Climb in back and we'll be off."

Lyanna nodded, and quickly did so. The wood was hard, but smooth. If she bundled up her cloak into a pillow, she could probably lie down somewhat comfortably. Gods, when was the last time she had proper rest? When she got back home, she was going to lie in her bed for a week, maybe two.

Ginny put the sack of food down beside Lyanna. Randy looked through it, only to frown. "Hold on a minute." He reached inside, and pulled out some silver and copper dragons—the exact amount he'd paid for the horse and food. "What's—"

"You just worry about getting her home safe," Ginny cut him off with a stern frown, before smiling softly at Lyanna. "That's payment enough for me."

Lyanna sniffled, and did let a few tears fall this time. "Thank you," she said. Ginny hummed, and reached a hand up to rub her shoulder. She shared a firm nod with Randy, before turning on her heel and returning to the inn.

Randy shrugged and dropped the coins in his shirt. Without a word, he climbed to the front of the cart, lightly whipped the reins, and set the North. Home.

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The road may not have been as smooth as one of those newer roads the Citadel was making but it was a well-worn highway that let Lyanna lie down as she'd wanted to. She stared up at the sky, the clouds lazily floating along the afternoon sun.

She still had no idea what she was going to do about fuck-face. She was certain that once he returned to the Red Keep, he'd gather his armies and march towards Winterfell. He'd been obsessed with whatever his prophecy demanded, and got it into his head that Lyanna was his key to fulfilling it.

To say nothing of the fact that he—and the Faith—would want Randy's head on a pike, to watch as they fed his body to the dogs. Not that anyone would ever get the chance to kill, much less capture, this god that walked among them.

But it did bring up a question.

"Randy?" Lyanna looked up, staring at him as he looked over his shoulder. "What do you plan to do, once you take me home?"

Randy hummed and turned back to face the road. "Well, first I'm going to make sure Rhaegar and his family don't do anything stupid." Lyanna didn't want to ask how he would do that. It would either be terrifying or utterly insane. "After that…I think I'll go beyond the Wall."

"What?" Lyanna laughed; she couldn't help it. "You want to become a Brother of the Night's Watch?" Though she could admit to herself that he would look rather dashing in black. But he'd probably look better in gray, or white. Maybe a direwolf stitched onto his—Lyanna shook her head, praying to the Old and the New she wasn't blushing as much as she felt she was. It was those kinds of thoughts that got her in this mess in the first.

…Although Randy had already proven himself to be fuck-face's better in almost every way.

"Ugh, stop it Lyanna!" she scolded herself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Lyanna replied, facing away from Randy. "Just…thinking about…Riverrun." Her mood quickly deflated. "Oh, Brandon and everyone must be fraught with worry."

"Ah, I'm sure it's fine." Randy shrugged. "Your brother's probably…just…" he trailed off, and Mulberry and the cart slowed to a stop as well.

"Randy?" Lyanna knelt up and shuffled over to him. He stared blankly ahead. "What's wrong?"

Randy was silent for another moment. Before he jerked his head back and shouted. "Mierda!"

"Wah!" Lyanna yelped as she fell back onto the cart. Randy had stood up, and was pulling on his hair as he shouted into the sky.

"Estupido idiota hijo de puta! Como pudiste olvidarte de Brandon Stark, eh? Dios mio, esto es malo!"

Lyanna had no idea what the hell he was saying, but she recognized her brother's name. "What about Brandon?!"

"Get off the cart," Randy said in the common tongue. Lyanna did so, not even questioning him when he unhooked Mulberry from the cart and ate it like some sort of deranged beaver.

He was panting by the time he was done. "Change of plans. We gotta get to King's Landing."

Lyanna gasped. "What? No! I need to get as far away from there as possible!"

"Yeah, I know," Randy said with a sour look. "But right now, your brother and a handful of other highborn men are riding there under the belief that Rhaegar Targaryen currently has held captive in the city."

"B-But why would he—" Lyanna froze. "Oh gods, I just left him. I didn't even leave a note, as soon as Rhaegar told me we could leave I did!" She started to cry. "I didn't even think about how worried he would be—terrified! I had to fight him so much that morning to get him to concede to letting me leave the castle. God, how many days did he search for me?!"

"Hey, hey!" Randy was on her in seconds. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until she looked at him. "Listen to me! I'm going to say this now, and I'll repeat this as often as I need to. This isn't your fault." Before she could push him away and counter his words, he said, "Rhaegar, the married man ten years your senior—the Crown Prince of Westeros—manipulated you into thinking he was your friend."

"But I should have known better!" she sobbed.

Randy smiled warmly at her. "Lyanna, you're a, what fifteen, sixteen-year-old girl raised during times of peace—relative as that word is in this world—in a warm and happy environment. It's not your fault that some utter fucking asshole knew what to say to make you trust him."

"I'm seventeen," she mulishly replied. She sniffled, but had stopped crying. "Still…if you hadn't been there…"

"I know," Randy said, a stricken expression on his face. "But what matters now is that I am here. And I promise, I will keep you, your brother, everyone and everything you care about safe." He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Alright?"

She found it in herself to nod.

"Good." Randy pulled away, and plucked a handkerchief from the palm of his hand. It bore the mark of a direwolf, she noticed. "Now, no more tears. You've cried enough over fuck-face, I think."

Lyanna giggled. "Yes, I think I have." She turned away from Randy to clean her face. When she turned back, she saw that he'd, somehow, gotten his hands on a saddle for Mulberry. Given the way the front of his shirt was pulled up, showing his navel, he made it from his stomach. His flat, muscular stomach. Gods, he wasn't muscled like her brothers or Robert, or even Rhaegar, but she wouldn't mind—

Lyanna growled, and dug her nails into her palms, and only let up just before they would have bled. There was no time for that nonsense…Not now, at least. Now, she needed to make sure her oldest brother didn't do something stupid. An average day, really.

"Get on," Randy said as he gestured to Mulberry. Lyanna hopped onto the mare, and let out an approving hum as she settled into the saddle. It was better than any saddle she'd ever sat on before. He could make a killing selling these.

She held a hand out for Randy to climb on.

Only for him to shake his head. "Don't worry, I can keep up." Had anyone else said that, she'd have called them a fool. Thus, she simply spurred Mulberry east.

Indeed, somehow, someway, he kept pace with her. He even ran backwards and grinned up at her, the showoff.

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A/N: Who's ready for a camping trip?