She fell back onto the blanket, laughing as Lyonel flopped down beside her. "I did!" She insisted, slapping Lyonel's shoulder playfully.

He looked over at her, skeptical. "You punched him? You punched father?"

"You think I'm lying?" She asked.

Lyonel shook his head. "No, but I don't think you punched father, either."

"Well I did," she smiled at him. "And I stand by it."

"So does he by the sound of it," Lyonel said. Shireen blew a strand of hair out of her face, but it came back down over her eye. Her brother gently moved it clear of her vision. "Castellan of Storm's End."

Shireen felt the smile fade. "Yes."

He rubbed the top of her head affectionately again. "You should be proud of yourself, Shireen, father even considering appointing a woman to rule a castle is unbelievable, let alone actually doing it."

Shireen turned away, her face flushing. "That's not true, he appointed mother to command Dragonstone."

"Mother is his wife. And we both know how formidable she is."

"Very formidable. But even if I were a woman grown, he still wouldn't have left me to command Storm's End now the war's coming to it. I'm only surprised he let a maiden girl command it for so long."

Lyonel sat up and turned to her. "The Maiden is one of the aspects of the Seven. But you are not a girl, not anymore. You are a woman, Shireen. An incredible woman."

She turned further away from him. He sounded so mature. "I'm just doing the best I can, for father," she glanced over her shoulder to him. "And you."

Lyonel took her and pulled her until she was sitting, wrapping his arm around her and resting her head on his shoulder. "The best you can do is more than most men could ask for. I am forever grateful, and I know father is too." He reached beside him and pulled out a jug and two glasses. "A drink?" He asked.

"Yes please," she said, sitting up. He poured her a generous glass of, "water?" She asked.

"I've come to appreciate it," Lyonel said replied. "Sorry, I should have brought wine. But I spend most evenings with the men, and I don't want to drink wine while they can't."

"Or fight with a drunk army," she pointed out, draining half her glass.

"No, that would be bad," Lyonel laughed.

"Am I going to be stuck with marching rations as well, or will I at least dine like a princess?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, only getting about four beats in before bursting into laughter herself. Gods she must look ridiculous.

Lyonel pulled over a covered basket. "Depends, does my princess mind food that's a little cold?"

"She is deeply offended," Shireen said, turning her face away, maintaining her composure this time.

"Well, I'll just have to eat it all then," Lyonel shrugged.

"No no, food!" Shireen said. Lyonel laughed and passed her a cold piece of sausage wrapped in bread. He was different. So mature and strong, self-confident and determined. A man now, not a boy. A world away from how he'd been after the Blackwater, weak, frail, patheti- she caught herself. Lyonel had been through a traumatic experience, it was understandable that he be weak at that time. And it was gone now. He was back and stronger than ever, ready to take the war to the Lannisters. Win it. And then prepare himself for the crown. And that would require a marriage.

He was ready for it. Lyonel had always seen marriage as a duty, they both had. They both knew they would get little choice, her parents had been very clear from the very beginning, the love match that Lord Stark's daughter had sought in Joffrey was beyond them. But even now that marriage was no longer an abstract concept, but a viable tool of political alliance, dynastic continuation, and the choosing of a partner who could assist his rule, he was ready. But she would still not allow him to be undermined by his queen. A rotten queen could rot the whole realm, and she would not allow her brother to suffer their uncles' fates. Robert, cuckolded and murdered by his wife, Renly manipulated into lawbreaking by his. Not Lyonel. Never him.

When they were finished eating, Shireen took Lyonel's hand and squeezed it. They were always calloused from his training and archery, but now they felt hardened and toughened far beyond that. He squeezed back. Despite the toughness, he was still gentle. "Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"Before you go. Is there anything you need my help with?"

Lyonel took a moment before replying. "I don't think so. I have the army and supplies in hand. Mother will likely need your help though. She doesn't say anything, but she is looking extremely haggard. More so by the day."

"Then I'll help her," Shireen said. She was sure she could do something. She'd been running the Stormlands, she could help their mother do the same here.

Lyonel squeezed her hand again. "I know you will."

She pulled her hand from his grip and wiggled her fingers. "More food please, brother."

"Alright princess," he replied, passing her the basket.

"What's this?" She demanded.

"Well you've changed quite a bit, I don't know for certain what you like anymore."

There it was. In a jest he had broached the topic that had stood between them like a chasm. They were different now. Not in what she liked or didn't. Not in how good they were with their bows. They were different. She didn't like it. She wished that they could go back to where they were before, but she knew that it was a past out of reach now.

She put the basket down. "Lyonel," she said, sitting up and turning to him. He glanced at her, eyebrow raised. Did he not see it? "You know I'm not a different person now, don't you?"

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time. "No," he said finally through dry lips. "And yes. You are the same, but something more, something better and altogether worse."

She bit her lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. "What does that mean for us?"

He sighed. "I wish I knew. I know I still hold you dear to my heart. But there are more people in our lives now. I have Rennic, Torne and Albrech, my sailors and my soldiers. Lady Amalia and Magister Traghar, Ardahan and Shahrbana."

"Who?"

"Exactly. And you have your handmaiden, ser Richard, that septon you have told me of, Lady Fossoway and shipmaster Allard. Our lives are different now. We give more of ourselves to others."

Shireen threw herself down beside him. It hurt, her ribs connected with a stone under the blanket, but by resting her head on his shoulder, she could hide her tears. It was true. When they were young, they had only each other. They each knew everyone the other did. They wouldn't have needed to ask so many mundane questions because everything they experienced they experienced together. But their lives were drifting apart now.

"You know you also have a place in my heart," she whispered, fighting to keep sobs from shaking her voice. "Always."

Lyonel wrapped his arm around her and held her close. "Thank you," he replied. She felt him kiss her brow softly, but by the time she twisted her head up to kiss him back, he was lying back on the blanket, eyes closed. So she put her head back on his shoulder and waited a while.


They returned to Dragonstone that evening, the crisp air and orange glow painting a calming portrait across the castle. "Thank you for today," Shireen smiled up at Lyonel, "I think I needed it."

"I think we both needed it," Lyonel replied, returning the smile as he pushed open the door to the keep. "We can turn to the war tomorrow."

Yes. The war. It was impossible to forget. Soon Lyonel would be off to fight it again.

"There you are."

The pair of them jumped and turned around. A stunning woman with amber skin and dark brown hair tumbling around a luscious figure of curves and swells, wrapped in purple and cream silks stood behind them, hands on hips. "Prince Lyonel, where have you been?" Her accent was strange and beautiful, every syllable running into the next like a river. "You asked me to look over those details for you, and being ever so gracious, I did so, and then you're hiding when I'm ready to tell you what I found." She marched up to him and prodded him in the chest with a glossed nail. "I am very unhappy with you."

"I-I'm sorry I was-" Lyonel stammered, but the finger flashed from his chest to his lips, cutting him off. Shireen felt a burst of anger in her chest at that but before she could speak, the woman turned to her with a dazzling smile.

"I suppose I can't blame you, wanting to spend time with your sister." She bowed a strange bow, one arm folded across her stomach, one behind her back, her eyes never leaving Shireen's.

"How do you know who I am?" Shireen asked. Who was this woman?

"Oh, even if Prince Lyonel hadn't told me all about you, it would be obvious. Those beautiful features you share…" the woman reached out and brushed a finger along Shireen's cheekbone. Shireen's next words caught in her mouth. Did she just reach out and do that? "It is obvious, princess."

Finding her voice, Shireen asked, "and who are you?"

Immediately the woman pouted and looked at Lyonel. "Clearly I am not so worthy a topic of conversation," she said.

"I've talked about you," Lyonel replied defensively. "But Shireen only returned today, and-"

"Ah, I see," the woman said, reaching up and patting Lyonel's cheek. The nerve of this woman. "That's understandable darling. Still, you'll have to make it up to me later."

"As you say," Lyonel replied, noncommittally. "Shireen, this is Lady Amalia."

Shireen looked Amalia up and down. "You're Amalia?" She asked, incredulous.

Far from looking offended at Shireen's surprise, Amalia only smiled another dazzling smile at Shireen. "I am, princess," she said. "And I am honoured to finally meet you." She curtsied perfectly. "I can only apologise that I don't meet your expectations."

"No no," Shireen said. The woman was very forward, but that didn't mean Shireen should be rude on their first meeting. "It's just, from everything Lyonel has said that you do to help him, I thought you'd be older." This woman couldn't be more than a couple of years older than Lyonel. She was expecting Amalia to be at least thirty, what with all that Lyonel said and wrote about her.

"Oh, so he has told you a lot about me," Amalia said, raising an eyebrow at Lyonel. "Well now we simply must find time to converse. I want to hear all the details." Amalia clasped Shireen's hands between her own soft palms. Before Shireen could reply, she turned to Lyonel. "Since your sister has returned, I will give you the answers to your questions tomorrow."

"Can I have the short answer now?"

Amalia's laughter was bright and cheerful. "Darling, what you asked for, there are no short answers." She patted him on the cheek again. "Tomorrow, you'll hear it, if you turn up," she added, her voice suddenly sharp.

"I'll be there," Lyonel promised.

"Wonderful," she clapped her hands together, beaming. How could her attitude change so quickly? Shireen didn't have time to consider it before Amalia turned to her. "Princess, it's been a pleasure," and with that she turned and strode away with a sway in her hips and the sound of her voice still singing in Shireen's ear.

"So," Shireen said, looking at Lyonel when Amalia had disappeared. "That's Lady Amalia?"

Lyonel nodded, his eyes staring at where the woman had turned the corner. "Yes. That's her."

"She's… something," Shireen said. Even their mother hadn't shown such confidence, to just walk up to a prince and berate him. Wait. Shireen had been angry about that? How had she forgotten? Had Lady Amalia charmed her into forgetting that she was angry.

"She's certainly that," Lyonel said, looking at her. "So, what did you think?"

"I think I'll need to speak to her again to know what to think."

Lyonel laughed. "I'm not surprised. It took me a while to get to grips with the kind of person she is. But you absolutely should speak to her. I think you'll enjoy her company."

Shireen looked again after the woman. "I don't know, she seems rather forward."

"It's a little unnerving at first," Lyonel told her, "but just give her a chance. Please."

"Alright," she said, looking up at him and smiling. "Since you're asking."

He laughed again and gave her another hug. She didn't let the chance go to waste and hugged him back. "Sleep well Lyonel," she told him.