I don't know.
Chapter 7: Day 1- Words Not Spoken But Heard
Lyanna woke up and groaned at the ache of her back. It had been painful, sitting so stiffly and straight throughout the entire welcoming feast. She had felt restless having kept her limbs from making unnecessary movements. She also felt the gut deep need to scream and roar loudly after having kept her voice so soft and gentle. Along with the ache of her cheeks from smiling, Lyanna was feeling miserable.
Blinking bleary eyes, she tried to clear her vision. She opted not to think about the tortures the new day will bring. As she rose out of bed, she caught sight of the dress Anya had made for her. She scrambled to it and couldn't help but admire the work once more. The dress was perfect and Lyanna would wear it everyday if she could.
Her mind could not get over the fact that Anya had made this by hand.
It was proof her shy sweet sister was extremely gifted by the gods.
It was then Lyanna felt dread once more. She was utterly lost on what dress would be appropriate for today's activities. As if hearing her despair, her door opened and Anya entered. Lyanna immediately noticed that her sister was well and truly dressed for the day. Anya's hair was half up in a braided bun whilst the rest hung free. The dress she wore was elegant, still simple without any embroidery, nothing overly attention grabbing. Lyanna didn't know why the sight of her sister made her stomach twist with upset. After all Anya looked like the perfect little Lady she was.
Anya looked up from the parchment in her hand and was relieved to see Lyanna had already awaken.
"Oh good. You've awoken. How are you feeling?"
"Miserable!" Lyanna groaned loudly- perhaps a little too loud as Anya's ears ached at the outburst.
"Understandable, you did well last night. Did you see how Bran gaped, he barely knew it was you. You sure showed him." Anya praised, her lips twitching at the sweet sight of everyone's shock.
The youngest Stark was still riding the high and satisfaction of seeing everyone's stunned expressions. Proud that Lyanna had proven she had the makings of a True Lady. It was hard to remember that she had not won the battle entirely as the week had yet to finish. Lyanna grinned at the remembrance of Brandon's expression. For a moment the two sisters simply basked in the smug thrill of last night's victory.
"I'm glad I'd not had to wake you myself."
"What is it you're reading?" Lyanna questions, peering at the parchment in Anya's hand.
Anya hands Lyanna the parchment and wanders over to her clothes chest. She digs through the mess of clothes and picks out Lyanna's dress for the day. With her spirits high, she'd not slept for long. Before the sun had even risen, Anya had woken. In that time she had finalized the arrangements for the day's festivities. She'd ensured that the cooks were notified about the meal and tea times. Checked that the stable boys had the horses readied and prepared for later in the week. Overall Anya was feeling quite confident about the week start.
Lyanna on the other hand was not.
Reading the schedule planned for the week had her slumping and slowly sinking in hysteria. How can anyone expect her to continue a week as a Lady!? She can barely stand hearing herself speak so weakly about topics she has no care for. The flicker of anger ignited in her belly and she wanted to scream.
"These are all so boring Anya! Why is there going to be nothing exciting!?" Lyanna snaps
Anya carefully straightens the dress out on the bed before turning to Lyanna.
Lyanna falters when she meets Anya's gaze. She can not explain why but in this light, Anya looks to be glowing. There is no smile on her little sister's lips, her mask is still in play. But somehow, she looks beyond satisfied which is something Lyanna had not seen in years. Then Lyanna notices that not once has Anya slouched, her posture is still straight and proper. Lyanna wonders how her sister does not suffer aches.
Lyanna is hit with the startlingly realization that unlike her, Anya is used to such pain.
"It is only a tour Lya." Anya placates.
Lyanna says nothing due to the uneasy feeling in her gut. Suddenly she does not want to talk to Anya and it leaves her confused. Anya takes Lyanna's silence as resignation and she offers a grateful and confronting smile. Unaware of the effect it causes Lyanna.
"Just remember the moons time of freedom when this is all over."
After one last bid and warning not to take too long dressing, Anya leaves to check on other things.
Lyanna swallows at the bitter taste in her throat and the burning of something in her chest. She looks at the dress Anya had picked and wears it. When she checks the looking glass, she can't help but study the difference in her appearance. She does not recognize the girl who looks back at her.
"This is not me" Lyanna whispers before twisting away and forcing such thoughts out her head.
The thoughts that whispered and taunted that she will never be a lady like Anya. That Anya is growing to be a true lady….. just like their mother…... and Lyanna will never achieve such a thing.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Donella Hornwood sipped at her tea and silently observed the young ladies around her. When news had spread of House Stark organizing a gathering of Ladies, she had been most intrigued. Rickard Stark's reputation had grown after the death of his wife. Many of the Lords deemed him a cold and unfeeling man. Lyarra Stark was known as the Heart of Winterfell, and truly her death had brought the cold and ice of Winter to House Stark. Rumors were always started on a basis of truth and fact.
How the youngest Stark daughter had remained unknown is what truly brought her here.
As the oldest woman in attendance, Donella saw more than the others. Already she knew the rumors of the wild she wolf Stark daughter held more truth than lies. The girl was practically floundering during the feast. Restless, so obviously not use to the discipline a lady undergoes in maintaining posture and soft words. Although Donella will admit to being impressed by the she-wolf's manners.
No, it was not Lyanna Stark that Donella had been most interested in.
Anya Stark had not spoken much throughout the feast. The child was certainly surprising, which only increased Donella's curiosity. She'd seen how Brandon Stark had interfered with anyone's attempt in engaging the young girl in conversation. Protected, extremely guarded by her brothers. Donella was not blind to the youngest Stark boy keeping careful eye on every lady. She'd heard rumors of the cunning of Lyarra Stark. A trait inherited from her mother Arya Flint. If one knew where to look, they would see it so blatantly in the Stark children. Donella knew where to look.
Which is why she could not drag her eyes away from Anya Stark for long.
Donella had long deduced that the true purpose of the gathering was to showcase Lyanna Stark as a True Lady. Though her gut told her more was at work. Anya Stark was undoubtedly her father's child. A mask so perfected it was hard to gauge her true thoughts. No matter how much she tried to temper the feeling, Donella's admiration only grew for the Little Lady Stark.
Breaking fast together had only aided her in scouting the other ladies.
The ladies from House Karstark, Manderly and Umber, already clustering together as allies. They were young- ranging between 10 and 6 years to 10 and 4 years. After Lyea Manderly's attempt jab at Lyanna Stark, and the Little Lady Stark's swift scolding. She appears to have retreated and chosen to observe, gain more information about the Stark sisters before prodding once more for weaknesses.
None held any true talent or skill of note and so Donella labelled them as no true threat.
No, the true threat were the Ryswell sisters.
Both sister's were already promised to wed to powerful and respected houses. From the arrogant and snide undertones of Barbary Ryswell's words, the girl obviously knew it too. She was relentless in subtly mocking Lyanna Stark throughout their tour of Winterfell castle. Poking and prodding at every crack the eldest Stark was slow to conceal.
"Oh my, Winterfell is certainly well managed. How ever do you find the time, I wonder." Barbary simpered but the glint in her eyes shone with mock. Clearly she was alluding to the wild rumors about Lyanna Stark and her wishes for riding and sword fighting.
To make matters even more entertaining, was that poor Lyanna Stark sometimes missed the snark hidden in such pretty words. Donella could most definitely conclude that the eldest Stark daughter was not talented in such word play. A pity, and shame in all honesty, but not something she personally felt to correct or protect. Lyanna Stark may look like a Lady and certainly have the manners of one, but she is a wild thing and taming her does not last long.
"One does not find time, I've discovered."
Donella couldn't help the amused grin that spread across her lips. She watched Barbary Ryswell purse her lips with a tight smile as Anya spoke again.
"Time is never something to be found, but something to be made."
Anya Stark gives a short shrug as if she has no true interest in answering the question, but her expression is like a chilled winter breath. The surrounding ladies give soft giggles as if they had heard something humorous. Yet only those well versed in the game of words know that once again the little lady has given a scolding.
When the tour is nearing it's end, Donella revisits her opinion of the Stark sisters. If anything she becomes sure of her observations. The two although at first glance are easy to mistake as twins, are as different as the sun and moon. She slows her walk to properly study the youngest Stark daughter once again. Earnestly searching once more for a crack in the blank mask the child wears. Still Donella finds none and she is both frustrated and impressed.
Despite Donella's many years of experience and skill, she cannot read Anya Stark at all. It is a frightening conclusion but also an admirable achievement. There is no doubting that Anya Stark is a daughter of Rickard Stark and the late Lyarra Stark. As she is the perfect combination of her parents.
And it is for that reason, Donella is sure of her decision.
When Barbary once again spoke with hidden mockery towards Lyanna. It was not Anya who came to Lyanna's defense.
"You have my thanks Ladies Stark. To be personally shown the extravagance of Winterfell Castle is both an honor and a humbling welcome." Donella ignores the intense and narrowed eyes of the other ladies who are watching her with suspicion. As the eldest Lady present, she holds greater importance.
Donella has dwelled in the game of women's politics far longer than any present, and her words carry weight that the other's can not ignore.
"The management of such a large castle must be taxing and I am most impressed at how smoothly things are conducted. You should be proud of how greatly you have managed at such a young age the duties of a Lady of the house."
Lyanna is tense as Donella continues to speak but, it is not her Donella directs her words towards. Despite the fact she is looking to Lyanna Stark, her body is angled towards Anya. A smile flits it's way across her lips and she see's Lyanna relax slightly at the sight.
"Although perhaps another day of roaming the Castle can be arranged? The twittering of a nearby bird most often disrupted the peace throughout the tour and the sound of it grated greatly on my aging senses."
She hears a gasp of rage and smirks as some of the other ladies giggle. Only Maege Mormont laughs without shame. The blatant insult was obvious enough that even Lyanna Stark catches on to the insult in her words. The eldest Stark Daughter grins a wildly delighted grin that reveals the truth of her nature.
"Of course Lady Hornwood, and I assure you, there will be no repeat of such annoyance." Anya lightly assures. The tone in which she speaks is whimsical, as if she had hummed the words and not spoken. Donella straightens at realizing the child is allowing warmth to seep into her perfected mask.
"How can you be so certain?" Lady Jonelle from House Cerwyn inquires with an arched brow.
Surprisingly it is not Anya Stark who speaks, but Lyanna herself.
"Here in Winterfell, such annoying critters are often dealt with by the wild that walk freely. Prey tend not to last long when they roam within the den of a wolf"
All the visiting Ladies still as they register the fact that the Eldest she-wolf had delivered a threat. When Anya moves to stand beside her sister, the two offer small smiles but it in no way feels pleasant. They are children, younger than any of the visiting Ladies, but in this light- having just alluded to a threat, the two appear daring.
It is clear in this moment that the Stark sisters are issuing a reminder to their guest.
'Do not forget that it is YOU who have walked into the den of a Wolf.'
Donella sneaks a look at the other ladies and quickly survey's the expressions they wear. She is suddenly filled with a need to laugh. Though she does not give in to the urge, Lady Mormont readily laughs loudly without shame.
"And when such wild things roam be sure to call for my presence, Ladies Stark." Maege Mormont grinned before sending a smirk in Barbary's direction.
"I am most eager to see what excitement you plan for tomorrow's activities" The Bear Lady adds
"So too am I" Jonelle Cerwyn agrees
Lyanna continues to grin and her strides are filled with confidence as she leads them to their evening meal. Despite that, Donella keeps her focus on Anya who has chosen to walk behind the Ryswell sister's. For all appearances, the youngest Stark appears lost in thought, bored and uninterested almost.
The Ryswell sister's walk closer together and neither speak until they reach the Hall and Anya has joined her sister in the front. It is then Donella quietly releases a laugh, no longer able to contain the urge.
A Wild wolf, Quiet wolf, a She-wolf, a Wolf as cold as Winter and a young pup.
House Stark is truly favored by the Gods.
Her skin prickles and she looks up to meet the gaze of Anya Stark. The child holds no warmth in her eyes, her face slack and blank with disinterest. Donella Hornwood does not blink at the intensity or the chill that crawls down her spine at such attention. Instead she tips her head forward and concedes. Silently assuring the youngest Stark that House Hornwood is no enemy to House Stark. She offers her alliance and support should the Stark daughter ever need it.
The Little Lady does not show any reaction, only lifts her pointer as she reaches for her goblet. A server is immediately by Donella's side and she is offered a goblet as well. There is a small etching round the rim of the goblet and Donella near startles as she realizes it is a rune. Not just any simple rune, but a rune from the old tongue used by the First Men so many years ago. Though not well versed with that portion of her historical studies, she can recognize the simple etching easily as it is one of the few her father insisted she learn.
Donella's fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the goblet to her lips, her gaze met the blank face Stark daughter. In perfect sync they tip their goblets upward slightly and drink. The wine is bitter on her tongue at first, but then grows sweeter as she swallows. The liquid warms her belly and the euphoria she feels over what she has just done consumes her.
No one had noticed the age old- near forgotten ritual that had just taken place. None had realized what had just been promised between the two Ladies. Though it did not matter for the Gods bore witness to the promised alliance made.
As the rest of the meal continues, Donella is lost to a clouded daze. In the privacy of her assigned rooms, the Lady of Hornwood collapses onto her bed unable to silence her mind. She combs over every detail of the day, over and over again until her head aches. Finally she grows tired and her mind begins to calm. Before she succumbs to the spell of sleep, a fluttering thought passes through her mind.
Tonight she had promised her allegiance and loyalty, before the Gods through an old aged tradition. Today she pledged herself to a child. Anya Stark is nothing she could have possibly expected. She finds herself shaking anxiously with anticipation. Eager to see what other excitements await her doing her stay in Winterfell.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
They had only been separated for a few moments since evening meal concluded. Still, Anya is hardly startled when her chamber door slams open and Lyanna had joined her.
"THAT STUPID COW!"
Anya simply shuffles the parchment in her hands and continues to read her notes. Seconds after her opening shout, Lyanna is spitting curses and every filthy word she's ever heard. All of it being used to describe Barbary Ryswell's manner of being. Some of Lyanna's insults barely make sense and Anya stifles the urge to correct her sister's words and add her own. She knows that joining Lyanna's rage filled rant will only encourage Lyanna to seek out justice through some chaotic mess. Anya did not need another chicken incident to occur, especially during this week due to what she was trying to prove.
Anya is forcibly startled out of her thoughts when a book goes flying at her clothes chest.
"YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!" Lyanna roars angrily
The book is torn and tattered and for the first time in her 9 years of life, Anya feels something other than ice in her blood.
Many reasons can be to blame for what happens next. Her exhaustion, the tension she had harbored all day when fielding Barbary's jabs at Lyanna, the nervous doubt on whether she had performed the ritual properly or if she had used the correct rune. It will be several years in the future where Anya will realize just why she snaps so harshly at Lyanna.
"AND WHAT DO YOU WISH ME TO LISTEN TO!" Anya sharply sneers.
She shoves her parchment away and stands to face her sister. Lyanna has taken a step back at Anya's loud volume and is shocked into silence. Anya takes advantage of Lyanna's sudden loss of voice and spits her next words out with a sharp snarl on her lips and glaring eyes.
"Tell me Lyanna. EXPLAIN to me why I should listen to the filth of your words and insults."
Lyanna's snapped out of her momentary shock and her rage returned with full force. Stepping forwards Lyanna glared at her sister and roared her response.
"You sound as if you are defending HER"
"Or maybe it is YOU who should be the one to LISTEN! Maybe then you won't look so STUPID!"
The Stark sisters have fought before, and they are no strangers to bickering or arguing. Only this was nothing like those past disagreements. This was entirely different, something new that has never happened before. For the first time in her life, Anya feels a deep seeded RAGE that wishes to be released. It roars and thrums so loudly in her blood that Anya wants to set it free.
So she does.
"Barbary Ryswell sure and truly mocked and baited you, but you could barely hold your own. We were walking the halls of our HOME, the castle our ANCESTORS built! These were the walls that watched us grow. These are the walls that protect us from the cold of Winter. These are the walls that guide you EVERY DAY you run from lessons. THIS CASTLE IS OUR KINGDOM. OUR DEN and you near let that loose lipped wench dishonor and speak ill of it all!"
Lyanna furiously opened her mouth to counter everything Anya had said, but Anya did not allow her the chance. Lyanna found herself leaning back slightly as Anya stepped closer, her grey eyes blazing and her mouth snarling out sharp words intended to hurt at fast pace.
"You wish for me to listen to your rage and anger at the insult and mockery Barabary caused you! How dare you. I warned you to listen to the words that leaves a Lady's lips. I taught you to hear the difference and the words not spoken. IT IS YOU who chose not to listen!" You thoughtless idiot.
As if to prove a point, Anya does not vocally voice the end of her sentence but the implication is so heavily heard that Lyanna turns red.
"LIES!"
"Call me what you wish sister. I'd rather be called a Liar then be thought of as a Lady so imprudent she would not know she'd been called a heinous wench unless it was spelled and written and presented to her on a parchment" Anya taunted mockingly with cruelty
"SHUT UP! I'M NOT A LADY!" Lyanna roared as her face was now bright red and her eyes teary.
"THEN YOU ARE NOTHING!" Anya shouts back, so strongly she can feel her throat strain, followed by slight pain. Her chest is heaving and her head is throbbing. All she can hear is the blood in her veins thrumming and the pounding of her heart.
Lyanna stumbles back and her mouth shuts close with an audible click.
"YOU WILL BE KNOWN AS NOTHING. THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU AS NOTHING."
Anya can not stop herself from screaming. Something in her head whispers that she should stop, that she may come to regret these words she screams. Easily, Anya silences the voice and her next words are spoken coldly.
"You refuse to act as a girl. You refuse to become a Lady. You were not born an animal and so can not even truly be a beast."
Lyanna is fully crying now, she is shaking and sobbing but Anya does not waver as she speaks her final words.
"You dream and declare yourself a knight…. But even then you are not even that."
Lyanna continues to shake and cry, because she is listening and Anya is right. She feels her legs buckle and she collapses to the floor and begins to heavily wail into her arms. Seconds later she feels arms wrapping around her shoulders, through blurry tears and snot, Lyanna see's Anya holding her close.
The Stark sisters cling to each other and the anger and rage both sisters felt has long died. What is left in the aftermath is hurt and guilt, and two little girls clinging to each other tightly. Both afraid of what might next happen should either one let go. It takes a while for Lyanna to stop crying, but even then Anya does not move away.
"I'm sorry" Lyanna croaks
"You were right." Anya whispers after a few moments of silence.
Lyanna pulls away slightly to look at Anya. The youngest Stark sister gives an awkward grimace and tries to lighten the atmosphere.
"I am a liar… I lied when I said you'd be nothing"
When Lyanna begins to look confused, Anya nudges her lightly and bashfully mumbles.
"No matter what, You'll always be my sister and nobody can change that."
Lyanna manages a smile for that remark. Together they sit in the silence, both knowing that something had changed between them. The night grows darker, and the moon stretches higher in the star filled sky. Both know that they are needed early, that morning will come soon and they will need rest.
It is Lyanna who lets go first.
"I'm going to do better Anya. I promise to do better." Lyanna vows
"Of course you will. I'll always believe in you, Lya" Anya faithfully states
They part ways with smiles on their faces, until they can no longer see each other. It is then the smiles disappear. Lyanna runs to her chambers and clutches at her chest and feels the tightening of her heart worsen now that she is alone. Anya falls backward on her floor and feels nothing. She thinks she should feel something- anything. Perhaps she should even be praying or crying. Instead she simply lays on her floor and feels nothing.
The truth of it all, is this.
Both of the Stark daughters are liars. One more so than the other, But only the Gods could tell who spoke the truth. As many often forgot, that the Gods are always watching.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
The slapping of feet echoed in the night. A small panting and heaving figure ran hastily towards one of the many tents set up outside of Winterfell's gates. Benjen did not care that it was late and well past his bedtime. This was an emergency and he needed to tell Brandon because Brandon can fix it. He has to.
When Brandon wakes it is to the frantic jostling of his baby brother. At first he is irritated and ready to punish his brother for being out so late. He freezes when he realizes that Benjen is crying and looks extremely frightened.
"What. What's wrong? Is someone sick again?" Brandon demands, specifically thinking of Anya.
"Lya a-and- Bran we gotta call it off. We should send everyone home and just fail this whole stupid thing" Benjen wailed
Brandon was not one for patience but Benjen was frightened into tears and he did not want to make it worse. He channels Ned as best he can and calmly tries to weasel a proper explanation from Benjen on what has him so upset.
Benjen explains how he'd paid the cook's daughter to spy on how Anya and Lyanna's lady gathering fairs. He then talks of how Barbary Ryswell behaved towards their sisters. It took every bit of stubborn will Brandon possesed to keep himself quiet and calm. He was worried he may disrupt or scare Benjen and not get the entire story. When Benjen begins to talk of how he wanted to sneak in to see Anya before bed. Brandon feels his gut churn with unease, because Benjen grows softer as he speaks.
When Benjen finishes his tale, Brandon almost forgets to breathe. Taking several steady breaths, Brandon manages to hold back his initial reactions and calmly soothes and appeases Benjen's worries. When he feels Benjen is successfully calm- after many promises and vows to the gods that he will fix everything and everything will be fine- Benjen finally falls asleep.
Brandon ensures Benjen is bundled comfortably and warmly in his bed and then leaves the tent to go to the Godswoods. It is late and no one is awake under the moons watchful eye except for Brandon.
Finally, Brandon lets the rage in his blood howl and roar.
He is seething.
How dare that saggy cunt BITCH insult both his sister and his home.
How FUCKING DARE she cause his sisters to turn on each other.
Lyanna may not be a lady but she is a STARK and she is a WOLF.
Brandon heard what Benjen's story didn't say. He could hear the many insults and knives designed to stab and prod at Lyanna's insecurities. He knew the game of words women liked to play. He knew how to play the game just as well. Easily he could see how it had triggered his sisters to fight.
Barbary Ryswell was going to pay and Brandon would make sure of it.
Not only because of the mind tricks and word play she used on Lyanna but also because of the strain she placed on Anya. Pride filled him at how swiftly and neatly Benjen's tale painted Anya's replies to Barbary's jabs. To have also managed to keep it up throughout the entire day would be tiring for Anya, especially as she had been sick recently.
Brandon heaved and found himself feeling a lot calmer. Around him were many sliced and chopped wood and other things. The call for violence and blood no longer thrummed so strongly. He mentally began to compose a letter to Ned. Anya would need emotional comfort and Ned was always better at the feeling thing. Though he'd have to be sparse in details lest he enrage the Quiet Wolf so badly he'd start a war in the South or some nonsense. After the drunken brawl and tonight's outburst, Brandon began to think there is truth to the saying 'Beware the Quite ones'.
He'd been on his way to his tent when he caught sight of House Dustin's banner. He found his eyes lingering on William Dustin's tent and an idea sprung to mind.
The thought was cruel, viscous and completely dishonorable in every possible way. It was risky and could very much have him cursed by the gods and damned to the pits of hell. But it would be completely satisfying in many other ways- worth the entire trouble and quite profitable for himself. As he mulled over the risks and rewards, he recalled his Father's warning.
'Should I discover that you have defiled or embarrassed any of them. You leave me no choice'
The longer he contemplated it, the closer he got to a decision. It isn't until morning comes, and he is seeing off the Raven that will deliver his letter to Ned, that he catches glimpse of Anya and Lyanna. Neither little sister look any different from when he last saw them. Lyanna is still trying her best to be a lady and Anya has her mask in play.
But there is a distance between them.
Lyanna avoids standing by Anya for too long and Anya has not looked at Lyanna for more than 3 seconds.
Then he hears the Bitch who has caused the rift between his sisters- his pack.
Fuck it all, and Fuck his father's warning.
He was going to RUIN her and whatever respectable Lady reputation she had.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Rickard is in his solar room, when he is disrupted from his workings. Looking up he only shows his surprise by the slight narrowing of his eyes. The Maester gives his greeting before presenting Rickard a letter, small enough to be sent by raven.
"What is this?" Rickard grunts before beginning to open it.
"You wished to be informed of your children's actions, should they choose to send ravens."
By children the Maester is specifically speaking about the Stark boys. After Benjen's stunt by writing to Brandon- which led to his heir's impulsive decision to ride for Winterfell and Ned's drunken brawl. Rickard ordered the Maester to notify him when either boy uses a raven. More so, when Brandon sends out a raven. It was no secret his eldest son had no patience for letters, and if he does write, most often it is due to a troubling issue of importance.
When Rickard finishes the letter, he is silent but the quiet speaks volumes of his displeasure.
"Where are my daughters?" He sternly demands, before pushing away from his writing desk.
The Maester directs him and hastily scurries out of sight.
Rickard hides in the shadows and observes the gathering of ladies. He takes note of how they cluster and reads the way they banter and interact with another. It is almost startling when he realizes Donella Hornwood is obviously stating her alliance with his daughters. Lady Hornwood is never a few feet behind Anya and Lyanna, she stands either beside or behind both daughters as they walk.
"The gods have blessed you m'lord. You've a girl with wits and presence that could shake the grounds and rage the winds" A voice croons
Rickard only hums as his greatest spy comes to stand beside him.
"She works quickly. Near struck the Lady Hornwood dumb with her goblet offering."
Rickard glances sharply at his companion and knows they speak truth by the cunning smile on their lips. He then looks to where Anya is, and stares at his daughter with a mix of emotions. Suddenly, he is questioning just how well he knows his youngest daughter.
He is…. Impressed beyond doubt at what she has secured their house.
"It would seem m'lord, the little lady planned for much more with this gathering than you thought."
Rickard only hums in agreement, but then he notices the tension between his daughters. It is not overly obvious in any way, only those who knew the Stark sister's would be able to tell something is wrong. Without much prompting, his spy reports to him what they had gathered and overheard when the sister's fought.
He swallows when the report is finished and quietly waits to hear the aftermath of his daughters rage.
"The she-wolf cried til sleep stole her away. She has been distant with the little lady since."
"And Anya?" Rickard prompts though he feels he already knows.
"The little lady slept well, without trouble" the spy reports with amusement.
He dismisses them from his side and mulls over everything revealed to him. Returning to his solar, he formulates his own letter and then sends the raven off himself. As he watches the bird fade from sight he thinks of his daughters. They are growing and each day their differences shine brighter and brighter. The father in him wishes to interfere, and punish House Ryswell for Lady Barbary's insult.
But the Lord in him wishes otherwise.
Anya is collecting allies, proposing alliances between the ladies. What she is building is of great benefit and opportunity and as a lord he would be stupid to put an end to it.
He is distracted for the rest of the day, lost in his thoughts as he contemplated his daughters futures.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Ned relishes in the quiet he manages to secure. His body aches with exhaustion and his muscles scream in pain. All of the men involved had been heavily punished but Robert and he had the worst of it all for starting it. Not only had Lord Arryn schooled the boys by angry shouts he had them physically worked to the point of sickness. Robert was suffering much more than Ned as his body was heavier and he'd been banned from drunken drinking and whores.
The one time Ned had sobered and calmed enough to apologize to the Baratheon heir for the trouble. He had been silenced with a hard punch to the arm and adamant scolding.
"Shut your mouth Ned and choke on your sorry. I've never had so much fun in my life. By the Sevens blessings if you ever wish to do so again, call for me. If you don't only then will I accept your apology and reserve the right to strike your face with my hammer!"
Since the brawl, the two had somehow grown closer than before.
As Ned recalled the night, he felt no regret in the violence and blood he'd caused. It was all so addicting, thrilling- a kind of excitement he'd never knew existed. Ned looked at his hands and curled them into fists, still able recall the feeling of pounding another man in the face. The violence of it all…. Ned found himself missing it.
"Is this where you've come to hide!" Robert grumbled having finally found the Stark.
Robert collapsed beside Ned, so exhausted he couldn't even find the energy to speak. Hence a rare companionable silence built between the two that comforted them both. Robert looked at Ned and studied his friend once again. The blood thirst was gone and the Quiet Wolf returned, one would never think this is the same guy who mercilessly struck 3 grown men down with the leg of a table.
Instead, Ned looked as if he was born to brood and stay solemn.
"Are you regretting it?" Robert grunted as he shifted for better comfort.
"Hm… no"
Robert quirked an eyebrow at that only to laugh loudly.
"You've proven yourself a true savage Ned, be proud"
Anymore that could be said between the two is disrupted by a servant's arrival.
"Lord Stark, a raven has come with letters addressed to you"
Robert sits up and Ned hastily reaches for his letters.
Ned freezes when he realizes that none of them are from Anya. Instead in his hands are two letters, one from his father and the other from Brandon. The dread that crawls down his spine is completely warranted. Good news never follows when Brandon writes to him and if his father has written as well it can only be worse than he can imagine. The thing that has him most fearful is that a letter from Anya is not included, which can only mean something has once again happened to her.
He wastes no time in reading the letters. He starts with Brandon's, knowing his brothers lack of tact will be more to the point.
Ned,
The Lady Gathering has begun. As you worried the entire mess is chaotic and stressing on our little sisters. Benjen reports that the two have fought and words were said. If ever a time your words were needed most, it is now.
Bran.
Ned reads between the lines and does not like what hides there. He scans the letter twice, and notices how harshly written the letter is. It is that and Brandon's order for his words, that tells Ned that Brandon is pissed. He moves on to the letter from his father.
To my son,
You are not to ride North.
Ned barely registers the fact he curled his hands and is trembling with rage. It takes a lot of effort to calm himself enough to read the rest of his father's words.
Be wise my son. Your sisters need only read your words. Brandon and Benjen will be enough to settle any tension between your sisters. They will not however be enough to return their smiles and confidence in themselves.
Be smart Ned.
Lord Rickard Stark
Ned abandons the letters and lets his trembling rage over come him. He is angry at their demands, their orders but most of all hurt. Here in the South he is alone, so far away from his family- his pack. His sisters need him but he is only allowed to send his words. Above all else, Ned feels as if he has been abandoned by his father and brother.
It is hard to be so far and being away from the North- his home depresses him greatly.
Ned is forgetting what the feel of Winter is like. He is forgetting the cold of the North and the beauty of Winterfell. He struggles to recall which wing of the castle his room used to be in. There are nights were he chants his House words, as if they are a prayer. Some nights he mistakenly chants the words of House Arryn.
If not for Anya's letters, Ned would have forgotten he was in truth a Northerner.
"Is it a letter from your sister?" Robert asks
Ned startles as he had forgotten the Baratheon was present.
"No. My Brother and Father."
Robert tries not to feel giddy at that fact. He shouldn't be so gleeful, but he can't help but feel as such. The last time Brandon Stark had written to Ned, the Quiet Wolf had hunted. Robert can see that once again the Stark heir has written with upsetting news.
So when Ned gears himself and moves to leave, Robert follows eagerly.
Jon Arryn is surprised to see his Foster sons arrive at the courtyard. The two had looked completely run down with exhaustion just a few a moments before. Then he catches sight of Roberts eager expression and the thundering darkness that lurks in Ned's glare.
"I had thought you had wished to rest" Jon Arryn comments but cannot hide his intrigue entirely.
The men in the courtyard cease their sparring and glare at the Baratheon and Stark heir. Many of those present had been involved in the drunken brawl and plenty still harbored anger at the two.
Ned reaches for a sparring sword and approaches the training area.
"I felt the need to spar."
The men begin to bristle with want to attack but they look at Jon for permission.
The Lord of the Vale, mulls over the idea and ultimately gives his consent. The first niggling that warns him he may have chosen wrong is when Ned points his sword at 5 different men. Jon knows that the 5 had been the more brutally injured during the brawl and are the most eager to get revenge.
"Are you challenging us Savage" One spits with a sneer
Never one to keep to the sidelines, Robert loudly boasts his own opinion.
"Shut your mouth and pick up a sword"
Robert swings his training hammer over his shoulder and readies his stance. It is then confusion echoes on the faces of the surrounding men.
"Two on one? Of course the Northerner will know no such honor!" Several men crow
The second sign Jon has that proves he may have chosen wrong is the way Ned grins. For Jon, he feels as if he is looking at a stranger. He does not recognize the boy who stands there. This is not the boy he fostered and it dawns on him that he is witnessing the ways of a true Northerner.
"Scared! Together Ned and I can take you all!" Robert once again boasts gleefully.
The men are insulted and their wants for retribution is so great they all readily accept the Baratheon's challenge. Jon remains quiet from where he watches as he knows he is witnessing the birth of a beginning. When the 'sparring' begins it is pure chaos and Jon can not help but liken it to witnessing a battle front. Robert is loud in his war cries and his hammer is swinging wildly, taking many down with single , it is Ned who is stealing the show.
There is no honor in the way Ned fights, there is no respect. It is wild and fierce, silent and swift. It is like watching Winter invade and suffocating every bit of warmth and life in its wake. Ned is not sparring- not really, he is hunting and there is a thirst for blood in his veins. Jon wonders how he could have ever dismissed the boy as a true threat. The longer he witnesses Robert and Ned's partnership, the more schemes come to mind.
It is then Jon Arryn realizes just how much he has gained by fostering a Baratheon and Stark.
