Land of the King
Chapter 30: The Princess of Winterfell
"You wished to speak to me, Father?" Araphant asked as he walked into the office of his father, King Araval of Arnor. The man in question was staring out the window.
"Yes, have a seat my son," Araval said.
Araphant did as his father commanded, noticing as he did, a map of Westeros on the desk.
"Tell me, what do you see?" Araval asked his son.
"It is a map of the continent, Father. A map showing our great kingdom and the various petty and disunited realms of lesser men beyond," Araphant answered, confused at why his father was asking him this.
"Not so disunited anymore it would seem, for that map is outdated."
Araphant looked to see his father turning from the window to face him.
As he walked towards his heir, Araval spoke, "Word has come that the Dreadfort has fallen to the Kings of Winter and House Bolton has submitted to the Starks. King Brandon is now proclaiming his new title as King in the North to all of Westeros."
"Surely you do not think that Brandon could be of a threat to us?"
Araval raised his eyebrows at his son, "Perhaps, perhaps not. Our forefathers did not build our great kingdom by underestimating their enemies, lesser men or not, and Brandon now rules a realm greater in size even then our own, if only slightly. He could be a significant threat to our northern border, and an even greater ally."
It was Araphant's turn now to raise his eyebrows at his father, "You wish to ally with Brandon? Formenor is not a very wealthy land, what do they have there but wood and furs?"
"It is better to make friends than enemies. Our forefathers crushed every major kingdom in Westeros centuries ago and now one more has risen. It is in the North that we must now work to extend our influence. Dorne is already under our control and the petty mountain men of the Vale would never be able to threaten us. It is to the north that we must look, especially now that they have united under the Direwolf."
"And you wish for me to serve as your emissary?" Araphant asked, understanding his father's designs now.
"That is correct. Learn their ways, their language and their traditions. Understand their strengths and weaknesses. Should they be amenable to an alliance, strengthen them, and if not, undermine them. That is the mission I am giving to you. Do you understand Araphant?"
Araphant looked into his father's eyes and nodded. He would not fail his father.
"Perhaps when you return, you will settle down with a wife of your own. Unlikely I know, but your father can hope," Araval said absentmindedly as he returned to looking out the window.
His son however did not pay attention to his words about his current marital status as he was absorbed in studying the map of Westeros. Slowly Araphant traced his fingers up from Annúminas to the seat of House Stark, in the heart of the North. Winterfell. It seemed that Araphant was in for a long journey. He wondered what the Starks were like.
Princess Lyarra Stark was very excited. The ten-year old princess had been informed a few weeks ago by her dear father that a Prince of Arnor would be coming to stay in Winterfell as an emissary of his royal father!
Ah, she would have so very much to ask the Prince when he arrived on the morrow.
Her whole life, Lyarra had heard tales of the legendary Kingdom of Arnor. Tales of its people living for centuries and everyone, even the commoners, being able to read and enjoy life in immense prosperity. Food was plentiful and the streets and buildings were gilded in gold. Arnor was so rich that its children were even said to play with precious stones like pebbles!
It was often quite hard for Lyarra to believe that such a kingdom was on the same continent as her beloved home, Winterfell, yet it was so. It was quite surreal that a few hundred miles could make such a difference in the prosperity of the kingdom.
That night, Lyarra could hardly sleep for her excitement kept the young girl awake for quite a time.
The morning after, Lyarra gathered with her family, her parents and two elder brothers, in the courtyard to welcome Prince Araphant.
Her heart was racing in her chest when Prince Araphant and his company rode in.
They were mounted on truly massive horses, larger than any Lyarra had ever seen. The men riding atop them seemed just as massive for when they dismounted, all of them towered over Lyarra's brothers and father, and in fact over pretty much everyone in Winterfell or the North for that matter.
Lyarra's father King Brandon was called the 'Great' not only for his incredible accomplishments in uniting the North under House Stark but also for his incredible stature of almost seven feet, courtesy of his Umber mother. Yet even her tall father was dwarfed by the Arnorians, the shortest of which was at least seven feet tall.
"Welcome to Winterfell, Prince Araphant. We are pleased to host you in our home," her father said.
"Your Grace, it is an honour to be here in Winterfell. Your castle is very impressive indeed. Your ancestor must have been a highly skilled individual to build a fortress that can rival even those in Arnor," Prince Araphant said, his voice full of just enough deference to avoid being offensive but also enough pride to remind them of his equal status and rank to them. (Lyarra could not know of course that the Starks were hardly considered equal to the Royal House of Arnor.)
Her father smiled politely at the compliment given by the Prince and thanked him before introducing his family, "This is my wife, Bethany."
"An honour to meet you Your Grace," the Prince said as he courteously kissed the hand of her mother.
"My sons, Brandon and Bennard," her father said, gesturing to her respective brothers.
"My brother and I are looking forward to testing our skills against yours and your company in the training yard," her brother Brandon said to the Prince as they were introduced.
The Prince and his men smirked at that. "Perhaps on the morrow then, we are quite tired from the long journey," the Prince said cheerfully.
"And last but not least, my daughter-"
"Lyarra, Your Highness," Lyarra interrupted, wishing to introduce herself.
As the Prince looked at her, Lyarra in turn was able to get a good look at his face.
As expected, the over-seven-foot tall prince towered over her. He had gorgeous blue-grey eyes that seemed to shine like two jewels, contrasting sharply against his long raven-black hair that was combed neatly back. His handsome face was wearing a smile that reached his eyes, making them and him look even more amazing.
Lyarra felt flutters in her heart but barely managed to resist the temptation to blush as she greeted the Prince.
"Princess, you look lovely," the Prince said kindly with a slight bow before he kissed her hand.
Lyarra could not hide her embarrassment this time as her cheeks flamed.
Her family it seemed was amused at her discomfort, her parents watched her carefully whilst her brothers wore mischievous grins. Intentionally or not, the Prince acted like he was unaware of her embarrassment despite her very obviously red face and asked for him and his men to be shown to their quarters.
When she was dismissed from the courtyard, Lyarra ran back to her rooms and buried her face in her pillows to hide her embarrassment.
"He said I looked lovely," she thought, as she kicked her legs up and down the bed in excitement.
It took at least an hour before Lyarra had calmed down enough to begin dressing for dinner. She was not sure how princesses dressed in the south, but here in the north, luxury was rarely afforded. Therefore, Lyarra had dressed herself in a simple blue gown and styled her brown hair in a simple braid with the help of her maid.
In honour of their guests, her father had thrown a feast, and Lyarra and her brothers were tasked with entertaining their guests at the head table.
Prince Araphant was accompanied by only eight guards. It seemed that his father was confident in his son's ability to take care of himself. Nevertheless, as honoured guests from Arnor, guard or not, all eight had been invited to sit with them and the Prince at the table. A wise decision it appeared as all were of noble birth to varying degrees.
As the guest of honour, Prince Araphant had been invited to sit near the head of the table at her father's right whilst her mother occupied the left. Her brothers, Brandon and Bennard, were seated beside the Prince whilst Lyarra sat to her mother's left. The rest of the table was occupied by Prince Araphant's eight companions.
No business was discussed at the table, purely small talk as they were to socialise and get to know their guests.
Lyarra in particular was asking many questions of the man beside her, Boromir, not just about the Prince but about Arnor as well.
"So what is it like in Arnor?" she asked Boromir.
"It is difficult to truly know unless you go there yourself Princess. All I can say is that our homeland is a truly beautiful kingdom. The Mander and Trident Rivers flow blue and crystal beneath azure skies and beside rolling green hills. The Red Mountains and the Mountains of the Moon rise sheer on our borders, casting great shadows over the watchtowers and fortressed we built to guard them. Our streets and roads are wide and filled with many souls, all blessed with great fortune and prosperity. The Kingdom itself is diverse with many regions, each with its own history and united by the leadership of our great kings," Boromir answered.
"What of Annuminas?" Lyarra asked again excitedly.
When she had exhausted her list of questions, Lyarra turned to asking what they had thought of Barrowton and the other settlements they had passed on their way to Winterfell.
"Barrowton was well, forgive me, quite small in our opinion Princess, as were most of the other castles we stopped at on the way here" Boromir answered carefully.
"Truly? Barrowton is the largest settlement in the North!" Lyarra exclaimed, shocked.
It had been well over two millennia since the Greyborn, the scourge of the west coasts of the continent, had been conquered and pacified by an ancient Arnorian king. Lyarra knew this as it had been in her lessons only a few weeks earlier.
The west coast of the North, previously poor and harsh due to the constant raids had prospered and become extremely wealthy and rich from trade with Arnor. Barrowton was but the largest of many rich settlements on the western coast, having a population of almost 80,000. Lyarra's own family had one such port on Sea Dragon Point.
Lyarra had told Boromir as much, impressing the man slightly with her vast knowledge. Boromir however had then told Lyarra that Annúminas had a population of over 800,000 and was but one of many cities with comparable population in Arnor.
The shocked princess had stopped pestering Boromir then, taking some time to digest the information. It was one thing to read about it in books but another entirely to hear a first-hand account from someone who lived in those very cities.
Taking some time to run some calculations in her head, the clever princess became even more astounded when she realised the amount of food one Arnorian city would require, food they certainly had if they had multiple cities with such a great populace. Truly, Arnor was prosperous beyond measure if they could feed such a great population.
Her own father's domain had in total only three million subjects according to the census taken after his victory over the Boltons. According to Boromir, Arnor had more than ten times that number, giving it a truly massive population of almost thirty-three million.
Lyarra however would not be able to continue questioning Boromir as suddenly, her brother's voice rang out across the whole table.
"Ehh!? You're two hundred and sixteen years old?" her brother asked the Prince, shocked.
The entire table fell silent then. Lyarra almost felt like slapping herself when she realised she had forgotten the men sitting with them could very well all be centuries old.
"Well I was born in the 2750th year of our reckoning and as it is now the 2966th year since Elendil's Landing, I do believe that I am indeed two hundred and sixteen," Prince Araphant answered casually.
Her brothers shook their heads in disbelief. Lyarra did not blame them, for the Prince hardly looked a day over twenty-five at most.
Her mother interjected then, "Two hundred and sixteen and yet you remain unmarried? May I ask why?"
The Prince's eight companions almost groaned then.
Prince Araphant himself looked like he had been asked this question many times, "My own family, the Royal House of Elendil can live to around four hundred so I am barely halfway into my life. Furthermore, I have two younger brothers and a whole host of cousins so my father has been quite understanding when I have told him I wish to wait a little longer."
Boromir interrupted the Prince then, "Do not listen to him Your Grace, His Highness has been irritating his father with his recalcitrance to marry for the past six decades already now and he has taken exceeding care to turn down any proposal that has come his way. Indeed, he has puzzled all of us, making some even wonder if perhaps our prince had inclinations to another gender altogether."
Lyarra did not know the Prince could blush, but it seemed even two hundred years of life did not make one immune to the ribbing of their friends.
"No!" the Prince protested. "Forgive me Your Grace, but it is simply because I feel that I have not yet found the right woman to be my queen. Most every woman I meet in Arnor is vapid and vain, desiring me only for my title and status. Perhaps I want something more."
"Ahh a true romantic our prince," one of the other guards, Elladan, said.
The Prince proceeded to scold his companions for embarrassing him though they all knew that it was done only out of jest. Despite many of them being many decades younger than the Prince himself and all being far older than even the oldest person in Winterfell, they appeared quite immature at times, acting perhaps like a group of young boys at times. The Arnorians truly were a strange and different people.
That night when she was lying in her bed, Lyarra thought on the Prince's words, about his desire to find the right person to be his queen.
It was impossible that the Prince would ever choose her, disregarding even the incredible age gap between them, there was also the Arnorian Act of Succession which demanded that Prince Araphant wed a proper Númenórean bride. A short-lived woman like Lyarra herself would inevitably be could never be his queen.
Yet for the briefest of moments, Lyarra allowed herself to dream. Dreams nothing more than the childhood fancies of a whimsical little girl of course. Fantastical dreams of claiming the Prince as her own before the heart tree of Winterfell. He would say that she was his as he was hers and then he would lean in and…
"I'm far too young to be thinking of this!" Lyarra reprimanded herself in her head before forcing herself to try and sleep. Yet a smile remained on her face even as the young princess fell asleep whilst the wolves howled in the Wolfswood nearby.
Who knew? Some dreams came true, mayhaps by some miracle, Lyarra's would, though she doubted this particular dream would.
Author's Note: The mind of a child is a truly wonderful thing. I don't know Lyarra, dream hard enough and it might come true 'wink'.
Also to those who think the age gap is weird… deal with it ok. I know, but the Númenóreans live for a heck of a long time. Lyarra won't always be ten and Araphant definitely does not see her in anywhere close to that way at the moment, nor will he anytime soon.
