Reunions

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

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Lyanna awoke to a sharp object jabbing at her leg. She jerked up at the sensation, to see it was Bloodraven poking her with his beak.

"Sun's just peeking above the horizon," the bird said. He flapped his wings, and flew out of the tent. "Time to move." Lyanna yawned, but quickly got up and exited her small tent.

Seconds before Randy—hale, hearty, and not at all injured—swooped in and swallowed it whole. "Mornin', Lyanna!" he said with cheer, his neck and belly distended in an impossible shape before they shrank back to a normal, human size.

Gods, what was her life?

She grunted and rubbed her eyes. "Morning. Are we all set to head out?"

"Thoros and the horses are waiting right behind you." Lyanna looked over her shoulder. Thoros was already atop one of the horses—both stock horses, she noted—and sent her a jaunty wave. But what caught her attention were the two large piles of dried, withered grass to her left.

She shuddered as her mind caught up with her body, and recalled that that was where Randy had been…healing. She sidled a glance to her horrific savior—so much power, and you wouldn't think it based on his demeanor. She didn't know what was better: to know a monster (and for all that seemed rude, there was no other adequate word to describe Randy) existed by the sight of it, or remain oblivious to its existence until it was too late?

In any case, she had more pressing concerns on her mind. Like keeping her family safe from the consequences of her stupid, stupid mistakes.

She made her way over to her horse, easily swinging atop it. The saddle was a little big for her liking—and not nearly as comfortable as the one Randy had made for her—but she could handle a few sore muscles.

"Here," Thoros said beside her. He held out some bread and jerky. "Something to tide you over until we next rest."

Lyanna smiled and accepted the food. "Thank you," she said, before scarfing it down. She owed Thoros much—whatever he wanted; she would see that he got it. She also owed Randy, but suspected whatever she and her house offered, he would reject.

Bloodraven landed in front of her, just before the pommel of the saddle. "I've looked into the route ahead—there's nothing for miles. We won't be accosted by anyone or anything."

Lyanna frowned. "How can you tell? Didn't you say your powers were blocked last night?

Bloodraven huffed, and amused light entering his beady eyes. "I did. But I'm not averse to collecting information the old-fashioned way—which, in this case, means warging into a different animal within my current animal's line-of-sight, and directly traveling along the roots of weirwood trees when needed to find a suitable host animal." He chuckled. "I'd almost forgotten how fun it could be."

"You're welcome!" Randy.

"That wasn't an admission," Bloodraven said with a huff. "There is one problem, however. Brandon Stark and his party have already left Darry two days past, and I've no idea where along the Kingsroad they are. And wherever I predict they are, it's most likely further thanks to those new materials they paved the roads with"

Lyanna's pulse quickened. "Then we need to hurry!" She whipped her horse's reigns, and set it into a trot, then a gallop. "We stop for nothing more than rest!"

"You'll get no argument from me!" Thoros replied, riding up beside her.

"I'm waiting on you slowpokes," Randy called out, jogging ahead of them.

Bloodraven flew up from the saddle. "I shall continue scouting ahead. If I find your brother, I shall do my best to slow him down."

Lyanna, despite the fear clenched around her heart, couldn't help smile widely at the men—or otherwise—beside her. She felt like a princess in an old tale, riding among magic knights, battling evil forces throughout the lands!

It would be a fond memory to look back on in Storm's End, at least.

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"Can't you just…make them not tired?" Lyanna managed not to tap her foot against the ground, but did cross her arms and star imploringly at Randy. They were making good time, but the horses started slowing down, and they were forced to let them rest.

Randy rolled his eyes. "I told you days ago, I can't. Forget the fact that I never practiced healing magic that much, it heals wounds, not fatigue." He rubbed his chin. "At least, the spells I can remember offhand."

"That you can remember?" Thoros parroted from beside the horses.

"Oh certainly!" Randy exclaimed as he flopped onto the ground. "I told Lyanna this before, but I've probably forgotten more than every learned man and woman in this world combined." His face pinched. "Never mind the fact that some of the magic systems I know are contradictory to each other."

"Oh?" Bloodraven dropped down from his perch—a half-dead shrub—onto Randy's chest. "How so?"

"Ah, it's mainly the sources behind them," Randy replied. "I mentioned a few of them to Lyanna when we first met." He held up his left hand, listed off, "Chi, Ki, Chakra, Nen, Aura, Magic Power, Magcika, Soul—there's a shit-ton. Some inhabit the same 'space' as others and getting them to work at the same time gets…tricy."

"Sounds difficult," Thoros said, mystified. "The only magics I've ever learned of involve the use of blood—from that used by the lowest of the Faceless Men to the priests of R'hllor."

"Likewise," Bloodraven agreed. "Mine own magics are less…messy, than that practiced in Essos, but it's still granted due to my bloodline, and further powered by the blood-red sap of Weirwood trees."

Lyanna blinked. "Weirwood sap grants magic?" She'd never heard of that in any of Old Nan's tales. And if it were true, then did she have it? She and her siblings—except for Ned, the pious prude—had swapped out regular syrup for Weirwood sap during meals as harmless pranks for as long as she could remember. Even her father got in on it, before her mother's death stole away his mirth.

"Only when specifically tended by Children of the Forest," Bloodraven replied. At her wide-eyed stare, he added, "Yes, they're still around, if in terribly small numbers." He stared pointedly at Randy. "They're also in the midst of a panic the likes of which hasn't been seen since the Andals first came to Westeros and burned their trees and kin south of the Neck."

"What do they want?" Randy asked with a frown. "A handwritten apology?"

"I don't know," Bloodraven shrugged. "They haven't stopped screaming since you popped up."

"I've been around for about twenty years—they've been screaming for that long?"

"No, I mean when you did whatever the hell you did when you met Lyanna—what did you do, anyway?"

Randy smiled. "In order, I blew up Gerold Hightower's head with my eyes, slammed a swirling ball of pure compressed energy into Oswell Whent's chest, utterly destroyed both the mythical sword Dawn and Arthur Dayne's pride, summoned a bolt of lightning to kill the High Septon, and froze Rhaegar Targaryen solid."

Lyanna smiled fondly at the memories of Randy's retribution against her kidnappers and attempted-rapist. Thoros and Bloodraven stared at him in no small amount of shock and horror.

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They were forced to stop for another night. Lyanna tried not to get frustrated, she knew it wasn't the horses' faults—but dammit all, her family was in danger!

She wanted to cry, again, but held fast. Constant crying solved nothing, her mother had said. Shed tears once a tragedy happens, but not a drop after. If you could cry about something, you could stand to fix the underlying problem. It was another of House Stark's unofficial sayings—her personal favorite, really, if hard to follow. But it was true—she'd shed her tears when Rhaegar revealed his true colors, that needed to be the end of it.

Lyanna forced herself to her feet, arching her back and groaning as her spine popped. Randy and Bloodraven were opposite her, huddled close and exchanging harsh whispers. She didn't even think about eavesdropping—last time she did she heard something about tree-like genitals and quickly left them to themselves.

Instead, she walked over to Thoros, who was tending to the horses, as he'd taken to during their travel. "Hello," Lyanna said.

"Lady Lyanna," Thoros replied with a smile.

Lyanna grinned. "I think we can drop the 'Lady', Thoros."

"Afraid not, my lady," the Myrish priest teased. "It's only proper."

"Neither Randy nor Bloodraven call me that."

Thoros let out an ungentlemanly snort. "Those two can do whatever the hell they like—Randy especially." His lips curled into a thoughtful frown. "A lesser man would abuse the power he so easily wields."

Lyanna shivered at the thought. Gods, if Rhaegar bore even a mote of Randy's abilities…And apparently, there was someone else like him out there, in the Reach.

Was this person like Randy, just hiding away and divorcing themselves from the world? Surely, if it they were not, she'd have heard about them? Unless they used their strange magics to control people, like the Mythical Corpse Queen had the Night's King ages ago?

"Don't worry about it."

Lyanna jolted, and whirled around to stare at Randy. "Whoever the other guy is, I doubt they're evil." Lyanna blinked—she'd spoken aloud? Or shouted?

Randy shook his head, and tapped his left ear. "You whispered that bit about the Corpse Queen. I only heard it because I'm keeping an ear out for trouble."

Lyanna nodded. "That's…impressive."

"Eh." Randy shrugged. "It has its uses. It's mostly terrible though. Almost went mad the first time I used this."

"Oh?" Lyanna returned to the fire, Thoros right behind her. "How so?"

"Do you know how many people within a village are having sex at any given moment?"

Thoros let loose a long whistle. Lyanna winced—gods, she'd once just barely heard Bran have his way with a cook as she snuck into the kitchens for a late-night snack. It took weeks before she could look at her brother without hearing a steady clapping of flesh.

"Ugh, people can be so disgusting," Bloodraven groused. "Do you know how many people I've come across having sex within a Godswoods? The utter sacrilege!"

"Yeah, people are terrible," Randy said. "But back to this other person in the Reach—whoever they are, they're playing a very patient game."

"How do you know?" Thoros asked.

In response, Randy held out his arms. They both vibrated, and the skin on them was replaced with something else. His right arm turned coal-black, and either marbled or pock-marked, Lyanna couldn't tell without touching it—not that she wished to. His left arm turned gray, and was smooth as silk. Randy flexed his right hand. "Asphalt." His left." Concrete. That's how I know this person is, if not purely good, then at the very least benevolent." He rolled his shoulders, his arms shifting back to flesh. "See, these things shouldn't exist in this world—I mean, technically they could, but not at this point in time. Someone brought the knowledge of how to make them here."

Lyanna furrowed her brow—and Thoros let out an inquisitive grunt—but Bloodraven hummed triumphantly. "I'd thought something was amiss with these newfangled inventions." He hopped in front of Randy and stared up at him. "In no future that I could see did those materials exist. It wasn't until the Reach was blocked from my vision that I discovered them."

Randy smirked. "So, the official roads are paved with asphalt in the future? Buildings made with concrete foundations?"

"I cannot say much on buildings, but the roads within the Crownlands were nearly completely paved with asphalt. From what I could indirectly hear, the same with the Reach."

"Nowhere else?" Randy asked.

"No. Whether it be from lack of care or political maneuvering, I cannot say. I would have discovered more, but around that time is when, well…he…was alive." Bloodravan hung his head, voice trailing off into melancholy, as it always did whenever he spoke of his Bran. "And other matters demanded my attention."

Randy pursed his lips. "Just the Reach and the Crownlands, eh?"

"What are you thinking, my friend?" Thoros asked.

Randy let out a breath. "Oh just…trying to figure out who this other person could be."

"I imagine they could be anyone, no?" Lyanna replied.

"I don't think so," Randy replied, lips curled into a devious smile. "But that's for me to worry about. Your only concern should be getting to your brother before it's too late." He nodded at Bloodraven. "Which it shouldn't be, right?"

Bloodraven sniffed. "Even if we did completely miss Brandon Stark, I'd imagine you could just break him out of the Black Cells."

"Yeah, but that'd get…messy." His face scrunched in distaste, and Lyanna sucked in air through her teeth. She could only imagine the chaos such a public breakout would bring. They needed to get to Bran first. While Lyanna would love nothing more than to see Rhaegar in chains, she didn't want all of Westeros plunged into the war Bloodravan and Randy had told her about.

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Their journey was coming to an end, and with it, Lyanna's cheer. Bloodraven informed them of a village ten miles ahead of them, before splitting off with a promise to scour the roads for Brandon—either by sight or by word. That he had yet to return did not bode well.

Lyanna forced herself to take a deep breath. She just needed to find Bran. Find Bran, keep him from getting killed, and then return North before being shipped off to Storm's End. And she would do so without complaint. She was a Stark, and she would do her duty.

They were stopped by armed guards just before the town. "Ho there!" One of the guards said as he thumped the butt of his spear against the ground. "What brings you here?" He eyed their exhausted horses and tattered attire. "And why do you look like you just fled the Seven Hells?"

Randy—who'd gotten on her horse a mile out of town to avoid having to explain how he kept pace with horses—slid onto the ground, and walked towards the guards. One of them—younger than the rest—gripped his sword tightly. But the others, though wary, were more relaxed. Randy cleared his throat, and beckoned the lead guard forward. The man walked over, and leaned in as Randy whispered into his ear.

Lyanna hunched in on herself, to make herself look as small as possible on her horse, and prevent the guards from seeing her scowl. It was Thoros who suggested that they develop the ruse Lyanna was a poor girl kidnapped by bandits, and Randy, her cousin, hired the sellsword Thoros to help rescue her. It was close enough to the truth, and avoided unwanted attention, but damn if it wasn't embarrassing.

The head guard's eyes shifted, pity shining clear across his features as he looked at Lyanna. "Please, rest as long as you need," he said as he stepped away from Randy. "But fair warning, you might be stuck here for some time."

Randy's, Thoros's, and Lyanna's eyes all narrowed. "Why?" Randy asked for them all.

The guard held up his free hand. "There's Maesters from the Citadel up-and-down the Kingsroad, including the stretch right next to our village. They're 'inspecting' it or something. Slowing down all traffic along the roads, if not stopping it entirely." He hummed, and sent Lyanna another pitying glance. "Tell Lincoln at the inn that I sent you, and he'll ease up on the prices."

Randy smiled widely. "Thank you kindly!" And led Lyanna and Thoros into the town.

"Did Bloodraven know of these Maesters?" Thoros asked in a low voice.

"He told me that he saw a bunch along the road during his searches last night," Randy replied. "But he didn't look into what they were doing."

"Maybe they've held up Bran," Lyanna hopefully said.

Randy gained a contemplative look. "That'd be…awfully fortuitous." He said nothing more as they reached the inn. Randy handed Thoros some coin to get them rooms, and he and Lyanna took the horses to the stables. The stable hand was busy tending to other horses, but he did direct them to stalls with fresh feed and water.

Lyanna hopped off, wincing as her legs trembled. She groaned. "I love riding, but if I never see a saddle again, I'll be a happy woman."

Randy smiled at her as he pet the horses. "No kidding. I only rode for a mile at best, and I'm drained. That you, and Thoros, have ridden them practically nonstop for days is amazing."

"Please, spare me your fake platitudes," Lyanna replied with a mock-frown. "I don't need to hear them from the likes of you."

"It's not fake!" Randy protested. "I've never ridden a horse before—granted, I never had to, but my point still stands." His eyes shone with amusement. "You're amazing."

Lyanna turned away, face burning. Oh, did he know what he was doing to her? Part of her derided herself for a fool—to want another man after the disaster that was Rhaegar Targaryen. Another part of her felt she was perfectly justified in her feelings for this god in inhuman flesh.

The rest of her sternly reminded her of her duty to wed Robert Baratheon, lest she shame her house more than she already has.

It was with that thought that she sighed, shoulders slumped as she exited the stall.

Only to yelp as Randy pulled her back and pushed her against the wall.

Lyanna froze in spine-tingling terror. "Rand—mmf!" she struggled when he clamped his mouth over hers.

"Shh!" Randy hissed. "There's a group of horsemen heading our way." All at once, Lyanna stilled. She strained her hearing, but gave up upon remembering that Randy's hearing was beyond that of normal men. She tapped Randy's hand, working her jaw when he released his grip on it. "W-Who is it?"

Randy narrowed his eyes, head tilted towards the noise. Then, he blinked, and his expression softened into a wide smile. "Oh, oh! We are so lucky!"

It took Lyanna a moment to understand what he meant. But when she did, she gasped, and burst past him out the stables. It took a few minutes, but the group of horsemen that Randy spoke of rode into view. And at the front was a very, very familiar man.

Lyanna burst into silent tears as her brother, Bran, led him and his entourage to the stables. He didn't see her, at first, but he did see her as he got off his horse, for he froze, one leg hovering over the horse, face slack with shock.

"Bran!" Lyanna cried, and ran forward.

Her brother leapt off his horse so fast he almost fell on his face, but collected himself just in time to gather her in his arms. "Lya!" he cried, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. "Thank the gods, Lya!" Lyanna said nothing, sobbing as she held him close. He smelt of home.

The men he came with surrounded them, thanking the gods and congratulating them for finding each other.

"Um, excuse me?" And all at once, the adulations stopped, and they all turned towards the interruption. That being Randy, lips curled into a polite smile. "Don't mean to be rude, but maybe we don't do this out in the open?"

Bran shifted Lyanna behind him. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, voice slipping into a wolf-like growl. The men around him took position beside him, hands on the pommels of their swords.

"Bran, Bran!" Lyanna pushed away from her brother—but still held him in her arms. "This is Randy. He saved me from…" She gulped. "From Prince Rhaegar."

There was a shift in the men around them—perhaps they still held doubts that Rhaegar was truly a villain—but Lyanna cared only for her brother's reaction. His eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of Rhaegar, but when he turned to Randy all hostility vanished.

"I see." His eyes narrowed as he appraised Randy. Lyanna bit down the urge to defend her savior. Not that he needed it, for Bran's face relaxed as he smiled widely, showing all his teeth as he held out his right hand. "Well met, Randy!" He hugged Lyanna close with his left arm. "You've done House Stark a great service."

"Ah, don't mention it." Randy walked forward and shook the offered hand. "I was just doing what was right." He jerked his head towards the inn. "Thoros—another man that's been helping your sister—is inside getting a couple rooms. Why don't you two head up to one of them, catch up while the rest of us get situated."

The men around them rankled at being ordered by a, to their blissfully ignorant eyes, smallfolk, but Bran nodded. "Yes, I think we should." He shifted his gaze to Lyanna, eyes alight with concern "Are you…well enough to walk, Lyanna?"

At that, she scowled and shoved her brother off. "I'm not an invalid!" Bran just laughed, but there was a touch of hysteria to his tone. He looked her up-and-down in concern once more, eyes lingering at her hips and belly. At once, Lyanna knew what he was thinking. She gulped. "…Rhaegar didn't touch me. Randy stopped him" she whispered.

It was nearly imperceptible, but a weight lifted off her brother's shoulders. One less reason for him to march towards King's Landing and demand Rhaegar's head. He would still march, she knew, for the sake of her reputation. But she couldn't let that happen. A terrible scandal involving her would rise—Bran would not have kept quiet as to his suspicions in Riverrun, she knew—but so long as her family was safe, she could endure anything.

But when she told him the particulars of why and how she slipped away with Rhaegar, she was certain his disappointment and shame would break her all the same.

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A/N: Brandon doesn't die. Hooray!