Shadespace: Well I don't know what you expect Tristan to do about that. If Robb wants to cross the river, he'll have to pay the price. It may be totally disproportionate, but all the cards are in Frey's hands, and he knows that.


"I will never surrender,
I fight for lord and land,
I face a thousand foes
And I will make my stand."

Shireen hummed out the next part of the song as she worked on her stitches in her chambers. Aeriel was steadily improving her own talents in the art, she seemed to have a knack for it, among other things. If she had been highborn, she would have been the perfect handmaiden. She glanced out the window at the harbour down below the castle.

The fleet was a hive of activity, even from here she could see sailors scrambling over ships, and guardsmen patrolling the docks. Barrels were being loaded and unloaded as leaky crates and container were replaced with those of fresh wood. Her brother was down there somewhere, helping their father prepare for the war to come. She wished she could be with him but, although she knew her sums well enough, she had little knowledge of ships, sailors and soldiers, so she was here, perfecting the arts that she had to learn.

"The Stranger glides down,
Come to take his own,
But together we must fight,
And end this war as one."

She repeated the chorus as she put the final stitches to her star. It was not her best work, she would have to try harder, to make sure it was perfect before she tried to add one to her brother's cloak and armour, so that the Seven might guide him as he entered battle, he would have every shield she could give him.

"In light I'll fight in field and keep,
At night I'll dream in sleep,
I swore my oath on bended knee
An oath that I will keep."

"Finished!" She looked up at Aeriel who was holding a piece of cloth up proudly.

She stopped singing her tune and approached her handmaiden. The crown was clear and defined on the yellow cloth. "Very good," she replied, smiling at her. "I'm very impressed."

"Thank you," she said, blushing at the compliment. Shireen shook her head lightly at the reaction. Honestly, the girl would find herself with more than a few male admirers if the face of innocence was what she put to the world. Men and knights loved the innocent, the pure, and Aeriel exuded it from every pore. "How is your brother?" She asked suddenly.

"Lyonel?" She asked surprised. "I-I don't know," she replied. "He's been... busy."

"I think you should see him today," she said. "You said he was the most important person to you. You should see him."

He was the most important person. It was true. "Perhaps," she said. "If he needs to sleep though, I must let him. He has important duties now."

()()()

She met her brother in Dragonstone's courtyard. She had put aside her dress and was now wearing her leather armour and clutched her bow in her hand. She wrapped herself around him tightly. "Shireen," he asked dumbly, "what is it, is something wrong?"

"You always assume the worst, brother," she replied, pulling away and smiling up at him. "Why must something be wrong for me to want to see you?"

He shook his head and pulled her back in. "You're right, as always. It's good to see you again, it feel like it's been too long since we talked."

She nodded. "It has, and that's why we're doing this," he held up her bow. "We haven't tested ourselves against each other or several moons now. I want to see how I've improved."

Lyonel glanced at her bow. "I don't have my bow," he said. She pointed back at the archer butts where she had placed it and a dozen arrows.

"Like I'd let you off that easily," she teased, her heart warming when Lyonel's lips curled into a small, weary smile.

They approached their arrows, Lyonel taking a long time to ready his body, longer than it normally took him. But he did still end with the perfect archer's form. "Three for three?" She asked him.

He nodded slowly, then shook himself. "Yes," he replied. "Shall I go first?"

"By all means," she said.

Her brother took an arrow up and calmly notched it to his bow. He pulled the string to his cheek and released, letting the arrow soar through the air and plunge into the target. Calmly, with no rush, he took up his next arrow and repeated the process twice more.

Shireen took up her first arrow. A glance told her that her brother had a good spread, all arrows quite near the centre. However, as she was about to pull her bow back, a thunk made her look up. Lyonel had shot a fourth arrow into the target. "Lyonel?" She asked, making him look over at her, eyebrow raised. She held up three fingers. "Three for three," she reminded him.

He looked between her and his target with four arrows planted in it. "Did we not say four for four?" He asked her, confused. She shook her head. "I...I'm sorry," he made a move for the target to take his last arrow out. "I thought-"

"It's okay," she said, rushing over and taking his arm lightly. "Lyonel, it doesn't matter, we'll do four for four, it's okay."

"Thank you," he replied.

She smiled as she returned to her arrows and retook her stance. Her spread was about the same as Lyonel's was, maybe a little closer to the target but she'd have to wait until the end to see for sure. "You're up, brother."

He didn't reply with his voice, only fixing his next arrow to his bow. Slower than last time he released his next four arrows and they plunged like daggers into the target. This spread was wider than the first. They were all still within the ring, but two of them were closer to the edge than Lyonel normally was, far closer.

She replied with four arrows of her own. This time there was no mistaking it. Her arrows were definitely closer to the centre ring than her brother's. It had been years since this had been the case. Lyonel was the better archer, he always had been.

She ran her fingers over the smooth dragonbone, thinking about their past competitions, and how she had striven so hard to be able to match him, until she realised that she never truly would. Lyonel was better than her, a natural genius with the bow, and he had more time to train, he was expected to learn martial activities, she had to fit her archery around her work with the needle, her voice and other feminine activities. Not that she minded. She was a woman, Lyonel was a man, they both had their places. Besides, once she was married to some lord, be that Willas Tyrell or another, she would likely keep her bow as only a reminder of Lyonel, without whom there was no reason to use it. It allowed her to spend time with her brother, but if he wasn't there, then what would be the point.

She noticed her brother was not shooting any more arrows and glanced at the target, only three new arrows were there, so he must have been lining up his fourth arrow. She waited, but nothing came so she glanced at Lyonel. He was rubbing his forehead, clearly weary, and had no more arrows left. "Did I not give you enough arrows?" She asked, certain that she had given him twelve.

"You did," he replied quietly. "The last one... I missed."

"You... missed?" She asked. She must have misheard. "But... you never miss."

"I know I never miss, Shireen!" He yelled. "But it happened." He began stomping towards the target but his left foot got caught on his right and he fell to the stone ground, crying out in pain.

"Lyonel!" She gasped, discarding her bow and rushing over to him, she fell to her knees beside him and helped him to his feet. "I'm here, it's okay."

"Let go," he grunted, rubbing his left arm to ease the pain.

"No," she replied stubbornly. "We're getting you back into the castle." She retrieved their bows then helped Lyonel to his feet.

"The arrows," he muttered.

She shook her head. "Leave them. We can get them tomorrow." She looked into his eyes and saw they were fluttering near closing. "You need to sleep. Why didn't you say you were tired, I would have understood?"

"I know but... I don't sleep... not lately," he said. "I just lie awake in bed, fretting about the war... father... or half a hundred other things."

"Not tonight," she replied firmly. "You are getting to sleep tonight, come on." She laced her arm through his, that way she could support him without him looking weak, or causing anyone to worry about him.

They managed to get into his room with no suspicious looks from the people they passed. Lyonel not being in armour made things easier, since she could just help him out of his tunic and into bed without having to bother with buckles and straps.

He got in and she leant down to give him a goodnight kiss. As she turned to return to her own chambers, she felt her brother grip her wrist. "Can you stay?" He asked her. "Just until..."

She nodded. "Of course." She pulled of her leather armour, and slipped under the covers in her softer under armour. She pulled him into her, resting his head on her shoulder. "What makes you worry so much?" She asked. Maybe if he spoke about it, he might be able to sleep tonight.

"Everything," he whispered. "Father has to fight all of the rest of Westeros at this rate. Uncle is dead and now a false king sits the throne, a false king with the trappings of legitimacy and the backing of Lord Tywin Lannister. He has the fleet, but not much else. Every day there are a hundred new problems with the ships that I must deal with and the sellswords want their payment. When father takes the throne he'll have to hold it, and live with the knowledge that his heir is afflicted with greyscale. He is not loved and neither will I be. How can father do it, he still thinks it is possible, how, with so few men and no allies, how can we hope to defeat all of those who will fight for Joffrey called-Baratheon under the belief that he is the true king?"

"Shhh," she said, pressing a kiss to her brother's hair. "Lyonel, you are still thinking as the son of a lord. Father is the rightful king, and that is what you need to start thinking like, the son of a king." He looked up at her. "This war will demand much from you and father, much from us all. But you must look beyond that. Where you must fight you fight, where you must talk you talk and where you must retreat you retreat. And for the good of this realm, you must win. You must take King's Landing and help father claim the throne that is rightfully his." She slid down until she was looking her brother right in the eyes, lacing the fingers of her right hand with his right and her left hand with his left, squeezing. "Then, when the war is won, you're going to come home, you will come back to me, and be my brother again."

"I am your brother," he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers. "I will always be your brother."

"And I am your sister," she whispered back. "I will always be there for you, I promise."

"Thank you," his voice tailed off and Shireen opened her eyes. Lyonel was asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly, calmly. Gently, she unlaced their fingers and guided him to his back, tucking him in under the covers. She half wanted to lie down there, to put her head on his shoulder and be there with him through the night, to calm him if he awoke and help him sleep again. But that would be improper, he was her brother. So she kissed him between the eyes and slipped out from the bed, gathering her armour and bow before blowing out the candles and leaving Lyonel to his dreams.