Once she'd recovered, the Quiet Wolf, the Crannogman, and the Drunk Priest had gathered all of the resources that were hidden inside the tower… including food, water, medicine, and oil to light the turret aflame.
Ned, Howland, and Thoros had built eight cairns to honor the fallen which had died a week ago. They'd buried everyone, except for Arthur when the She-Wolf walked down the battlement's steps with her babe in her arms. She handed him to her brother before she ambled over to Arthur's rocky tomb.
"I promise you that I'll raise Aegon to be a king… and when it's time… Winter will Come for our enemies with Fire and Blood," Lya vowed; she kissed his forehead before she placed the final rocks over the Sword of the Morning's head, cementing his cairn. Ned then handed back her child, and then, Thoros had used his flaming sword to ignite the oil trail with fire. It wasn't long until the inferno storm spent the tower's entirety with hellfire-red, wave-like flames.
Whilst it burned down, Lyanna succumbed to sadness.
This was the place where she and her husband had conceived their beautiful son. This was the place where Rhaegar had made love to her. It was here where Lyanna had been his gorgeous, sassy, horny, naughty, naked queen. It was here where Rhaegar had composed a song ice and fire, and one day, she would sing that same song to her son.
"Lya." She heard a voice say; it belonged to her brother.
Ned approached with two horses; Lyanna turned to face him.
"I hope you know that we're traveling King's Landing… Robert's expecting me… After that, we'll sail to White Harbor and then to Winterfell."
Lyanna bit her lip down hard. "I don't want to see that cursed man ever again," she said, spitting on the ground.
"I know, Lya, but we need to go there in order not to arise suspicion," Ned told her sympathetically.
Lyanna ignored him and looked down at her sleeping pup.
Ned sighed and lifted her chin. "Lya?"
"I'll go."
That was the only thing she said before she moved away, mumbling sweet words to her little pup. Lya hugged him to her chest, savoring the moment she had with Jon before she handed him to Ned. She then mounted her horse, a white steed, and after she did, Ned gratefully returned her child to her and she nestled him in her lap. She waited until her companions were mounted, and after they did, she muttered the glamor charm, reverting to her blonde appearance. The four rode their steeds into the desert's day-breaking terrain. She'd left Lyanna Stark behind; she was now Ceri Snow. Her task was simple—protect her son. There'd be challenges ahead, but she knew they'd get through it. Together.
The journey had been long and tiresome—a week so far, counting today. But now, the Wolf Pack, the name which his little sister had proudly given their adventurous group, camped just outside the vast, lush forest of the Kingswood. They'd set up camp near the water before the sun had gone down; four tents, a fire, and two logs. The night had numbed with silence; everyone had gone to bed, and peace had succumbed to all.
Though it ended when Ned heard Lya's screams. Panic consumed him; getting up from his bed, he drew his sword. Urgently, he dashed out of his tent and sprinted into his sister's; there, Lyanna was on her knees, silently sobbing.
Immediately rushing to her side, he dropped to his knees and hugged her fiercely. She kept crying for a few more moments, clutching her head to his chest. "Shh, Lya," he whispered, caressing her hair. "You're alright."
Lyanna began to calm down, but her sniffles continued. In a choking tone, she said, "I had a nightmare, Ned. A terrible one. I was so–"
"No one's going to hurt you, Lya. I won't allow anyone to hurt you," he whispered, squeezing her body gently against his. She nodded before he helped her stand. He walked over to Jon's cot; his nephew—sound asleep. Turning back around, his eyes met his sister's, worry itched their existence. Ned pondered how he would approach this conversation; after taking a long breath, he spoke. "Do you want to talk about it, Lyanna?" She sat on her bed, shaking her head as she hugged her knees to her chest.
"I want to spar, Ned."
He frowned. We'll spar after we talk about your nightmare; they'll keep coming if we don't.
"Lya–"
"Dammit, Ned! I don't want to talk about it."
"It will help," he urged before he sat next to her on her bed. "Talk to me, Lyanna. Please?"
She shook her head, tears threatening her eyes once more. "Please don't make me, big brother."
In truth, he knew his sister very well; she'd only talk about things when only she wanted to talk about them unless he promised her an incentive. "I'd never force you to anything, Lyanna. But if you talk to me, little sister, I'll give you a sparring lesson every day for the next five years." She considered this offer for a second. It was too good to refuse; so, she nodded. Wiping away her tears, she rested her head against his shoulder.
"Do you remember the Knight in the Laughing Tree?"
"Aye, I remember."
"The knight was me."
Ned felt his body tense when he realized that she had been the knight. The Mad King had decreed his little sister a traitor. He shivered, thinking about the horrors that would have befallen had she been caught.
"Ned?" he heard her ask softly.
He kissed her forehead. "I'm here, Lya." She sighed while he ran his fingers through her hair.
"After the tourney ended, I left Harrenhal on the King's Road to attend Brandon's wedding. As I was riding Winter, seven harlots ambushed me. Winter took a bolt to its heart, and I was thrown off as he died. I killed three on my own with my sword, but they eventually overwhelmed me and pinned me down. Their leader told me that they were going to take me to Aerys. They said I would burn alive for my little treasonous stunt as the Knight in the Laughing Tree. I was so scared, Ned, they were going to rape me! I was about to give up, but then Rhaegar and Arthur saved me. They killed them all, and during the struggle, I managed to gauge the leader's eyes out… we barely escaped with our lives."
"Oh, Lya," Ned said.
"Promise me, Ned, promise me that if you ever have a daughter like me that you'll allow me to train her? The only reason I lasted so long was that I taught myself how to fight! Every girl should learn how to defend herself, big brother! I don't care if it's nonconformist nor polymathic! It's not fair that we don't get to learn how to use a sword because we're the ones that have tits and slits!"
Ned blushed, but he understood her point. "I know, Lya, and if I ever have a daughter that's like you, I want her to know how to fight. I don't ever want her to experience the living nightmare that you went through on the King's Road." Ned kissed her forehead once again, and as he did, the burden that Lyanna had been carrying for the last year had been expunged from her deepest depths. "I'm glad you told me this, Lya… I know this was hard for you, but it will help; I promise you it will help."
She smiled weakly. "Can we spar now?"
He stood, holding out a hand. "Aye, let's spar."
They sparred for an hour and a half.
Lyanna had impressed Ned. She had improved tremendously since their last spar a year and a half ago. She'd mastered acrobatics, footwork, and swordsmanship thanks to Rhaegar and Arthur's teaching. Ned had ousted her like he always did, but this time he merely won their match… it had been a back and forth battle.
Lyanna had been relentless; her form swift and lethal… she attacked him with rapid strikes. Ned had been forced on the defense the entire time, quickly parrying and countering all her assaults, but still, he managed to detect only slight flaws in her now elite fighting form… and he managed to use such techniques against her. However, she had given him a run for his money; if he didn't study her progressions, patterns, and tricks, he knew that he'd be the one yielding soon. If that happened, he was sure she'd never let him forget it.
They now ate breakfast on the logs as their campfire slowly died. Lyanna gently rocked her son while Ned watched her do it. Thoros had gone to prepare their horses, while Howland had left just after dawn with a dead girl's body, claiming it to be her corpse. If everything accordingly, Robert would have no choice but to accept the fact that she had died. She smiled, thinking about their plan. This wouldn't be justice; this wouldn't bring Rhaegar back from the dead, but she would take pleasure knowing that Robert would be a miserable hag without her. She was brought back to the moment when Ned splashed water over their fire, killing it. They'd finished breakfast, packed up, and continued riding to King's Landing.
After three more nights, King's Landing now awaited them in the distance.
Lyanna halted her horse, admiring the Seven Kingdom's capital; today was the first time she saw its entity. The city sprawled several miles from what she could perceive, covering three different, high hills, with imposing buildings. The farthest and largest was the Red Keep—the Iron Throne sheltered within. With its rough shapes, the city was protected by high marble walls that snaked around it in a winding course. Beyond the walls, she could spot the square-shaped, burgundy-tiled roofs; and the people that went through the alleys looked like ants from such a distance. However, she didn't let herself get fooled by its deceiving beauty. Even from such a distance, she knew that danger lurked within the city. She could smell death from the knolls; its stench made her feel nauseous.
"Come, Lya. They're waiting for us," her brother said, urging his mount forward.
At that moment, she could see the North's, the Vale's, the Stormland's, and the Westernland's armies camp outside the city's gates.
She took in a long breath, glancing at her pup, whispering, "No one's going to hurt you, my little dragonwolf." After kissing his head, she urged her horse forward, her heart hammering in her chest.
Old Nan had once told her the Iron Throne had been forged by Balerion the Dread's fiery breath. A thousand swords had been taken from Aegon Targaryen's fallen enemies and had been melted down to form such a chair. That was what she remembered from the stories that her mother told her as a child. It was an asymmetric monstrosity of spikes, jagged edges, and twisting metal. Lya hoped that Maegor's fate awaited Robert.
"Ceri, whatever happens, don't lose your temper," her brother said, using her fake name, right before the great doors opened. They saw Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Jaime Lannister.
"Ned!" greeted the Stag, his voice sounding like a jolly ogre. He bounded over to them—her nose smelt the pungent alcohol from his breath as Robert gave her brother a giant bear hug. "Tell me you found her? Tell me she's alive?"
"Aye, I found her, Robert, but she's dead." Her brother replied.
The Lord of Storm's End looked on in disbelief; backing away, he mumbled a "no," over and over. "She can't be dead, Ned. She can't! I want to see her! I want to see her body now!" Robert said in a demanding tone.
"You can't. I sent her corpse with Howland Reed."
"You will command him to return here at once! I am the King! I demand to see her at once!"
"I can't, Robert!" her brother said with force.
Lya glanced at the whoremonger, who looked full of rage; he shook his head in denial. Fool! The man was such a drunk fool! She wanted to do nothing but laugh. "I'm only here for the coronation, Robert. Let's not dwell on the past; let's look ahead to the future. You're going to be king—behave like one. Bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms." Robert kept shaking; he gazed at the floor, scratching his ugly beard. Lyanna was screaming with happiness! She was going to raise her baby boy at home—nothing would stop her now! She had played her drunk betroth!
"Ned's right, Robert. Take Lady Cersei as your queen and bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms." Jon Arryn said.
Lyanna could see Jaime cringe; clearly, he didn't like the idea of the whoremonger marrying his twin sister. If she were a Lannister, she would have agreed. Except one thing was clear: Robert and Cersei deserved each other; they were both heartless creatures.
After what seemed to be forever, the Stag looked up, and his eyes fell upon hers.
Oh fuck.
For a moment, she didn't know what to do nor to say. Hesitantly, she entwined her hands in front of her now flat belly, a desperate means of protecting herself.
"Who's she?" asked Robert, approaching her.
"Ceri Snow, my paramour." Her brother lied, stepping closer to her.
But Lyanna tried to keep a fearless expression, almost defying.
"Your paramour?" asked Robert with a raised eyebrow. Grinning at her brother, he said, "Well, this is something new for you, my friend!" The drunk stag then began to round her like a predator.
"Leave her, Robert!" Ned said, warningly, but it seemed that the stag didn't hear him.
"I must say I envy you; you have a naughty face and naughty body!" Robert began to drool. Lyanna wanted to throw up; she almost did when he placed his hands on her hips and dragged her to him, spooning her arse against his crotch. "Such a beautiful morsel!" He groaned with sexual excitement present in his voice.
She was praying to the Old Gods to make her resist turning around and slitting his throat then and there. However, what happened next, she didn't expect.
"Let's see how your twins are!" Robert said, his paws touched her stomach and then he groped her breasts. Just as he did, Lyanna extracted a dagger from her side, she was about to whip around, but her brother had beaten her to it. Ned tackled Robert to the floor; he began punching the lord's ugly face.
Guards rushed at them, separating the two, but their fight didn't stop there. The fight continued when Robert feverishly stole a sword from one of his bannermen. The Mad Stag rushed at the Quite Wolf; Ned barely managed to evade Robert's first strike, before he too withdrew his sword. A furious clash broke out in the Throne Room. In a matter of seconds, everything escalated when the Lords of the North and the Lords of the Stormlands blasted themselves through the doors, coming to their liege lords' aid. They charged at one another from opposing directions. With swords and shields, everyone began scourging one another, right and left, Greatjon Umber among the loudest and the fiercest. Lyanna wanted in; using her dagger, she plunged it into a Baratheon solder's skull and stole his sword. She cut two men down before Lord Arryn yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Behave yourself, both of you!"
"I'll behave myself the moment when he, the whoremonger, no longer treats those I love like his personal objects!" Ned barked, venom directed at Robert.
The Mad Stag said nothing; he only breathed fast, so fast that everyone thought Robert's heart might explode from the anger that surged in his bones.
Lyanna glanced towards the doors and saw Thoros hold her son, who started to cry. Instantly, she dropped the sword and rushed to her pup. The red priest handed him to her; taking Jon into her arms, she began to cradle him.
"Is that your son?" she heard Jon Arryn ask.
"Yes, he is," Lyanna replied softly, shielding her pup from Robert.
In the meantime, Lord Tywin Lannister had entered the Throne Room, flanked by two Lannister soldiers. The man was not amused.
Lyanna glanced towards her brother whilst hearing Robert ask, "Is that your son, Ned?"
"He is, and you disrespected his mother, my lover!" Her brother shouted, pointing his sword at the Stag.
Lyanna felt a smile riddle her cheeks; her big brother was protecting her from the perverted lord!
"Woman!" Robert boomed. "Bring the child here! I want to see the boy now!" the stag said, his finger trembling as he pointed it at her.
Lyanna began laughing darkly. You are not seeing Aegon! I'll kill you before I let you see him!
"The moment I let you see my son is the moment that I will kill you."
"How dare you, woman!" shouted the Stag, fury ripping his eyes. "Bring the child here, or I'll throw you and your lover into the Black Cells!"
"Are you fucking mad!" asked a strong voice; Greatjon Umber had stepped in front of her.
"Leave it, Robert!" Lord Arryn said, resting his hand on the crazed shoulder of the beast, while her brother had come to stand beside her.
"Things won't end here, Jon. He insulted Ceri with what he did, and he betrayed our friendship. I will not let him mock my son for whose name is Jon…" Lyanna looked at the Old Lord, seeing a surprised expression construct on his face, a smile cracking his lips. "And he isn't a trophy to display or mock!"
"I know, Ned, and I offer you Lord Baratheon's apologies."
"I want compensation for what he did. He insulted someone very close to me, and I will not let it stand."
"Insulted? Damn you be!" shouted Robert; he wanted to maul Ned but was stopped by his foster father.
"What compensation, Ned?"
"Fewer taxes paid to the crown and fewer tariffs," Ned said, taking a step forward.
"Fewer taxes? Fewer tariffs?" asked the Old Lion, chuckling, but he did not find these demands funny. No, he did not find them funny at all. "What you are asking is more than the wrong you have suffered here today, Lord Stark."
"With all due respect, Lord Lannister, the wrong he did is greater than the reparation that my lover is demanding," Lyanna said, fearlessly looking at Tywin.
His eyes flared with golden lava. "How dare you, a northern bastard, address a lord in such a manner!"
She was unbothered by his little insult.
"A daughter from the North, and I'd say she's more fucking beautiful than your daughter and is much feistier!" corrected Greatjon Umber.
Tywin's face twitched dangerously—a Lannister does not forget an insult nor a slight to his house.
"I would say for peace, these are fair demands, unless you want to switch from words to swords. If so, let the gods decide if they are with you or with us."
"No," said Jon Arryn, swallowing and shaking his head. "Enough blood has been spelled in the past months. And the two of you," he said, looking at Ned and Robert, "are like sons to me. I will not see you fight one another."
"I oppose this decision!" the Old Lion snarled, but Lord Arryn ignored him, turning to Robert. He furiously paced back and forth. "If I accept your conditions, our children, a son and a daughter, will marry once I have mine."
Ned glared silently in anger. "No."
"No!?" Robert's voice thundered. "You better give the damn marriage, or I'll cut off your head!"
"You try that, and you'll be dead in a heartbeat," said Lord Umber, pointing the tip of his sword at the man.
Lord Arryn was the only one that kept the room from falling into chaos as it did only moments ago. "Let us think on it, Ned."
Ned took a step forward. "There's nothing to think on. If you want peace, those are the terms."
Changing behind the dressing cover, Ned got ready for the night.
To keep things believable, regarding Lya and Jon, they'd agreed that she would sleep in his room—not just to raise suspicion, but for her safety as well. After all, they were in a perilous place. He'd given them the bed, deciding he didn't need it, for he planned to sleep on the couch.
"I'm proud of you, Ned," he heard her say.
Ned sighed; whipping around, he saw her sit in a chair, looking in a mirror as she combed her dark-brown hair. "You didn't let the Stag's or the Lion's fury intimidate you."
"He should've never dared to do that," he said, filling himself a goblet of Arbor red; Robert's actions today hadn't destroyed—it had completely shattered their already fractured friendship.
"He's always been like this. You and father just refused to condemn him." She said, instantly regretting making that remark, but she had no chance to apologize when they heard a knock.
Lyanna immediately used her trick while Ned went to open the door. He didn't expect to see the Lord of the Last Hearth standing on the other side.
"Lord Umber, how may I help you?"
"We have a serious matter to discuss." The great lord said, a somber expression painting his face.
Ned's heart began galivanting so hard that he could feel it throb painfully fast in the veins of his neck.
Did he know?
