Part 2. Once again, the beginning part takes place in the future.
Lyra gets a satisfied feeling in her gut when the Kingslayer hits the ground. Brienne had pulled him off the horse, letting him hit the ground without even trying to soften the landing. He had spent the last few hours with his hands too close to places she didn't want them and she was more than happy to let him fall. She dismounts as well, Brienne sending the horse off with a slap to the rear.
Brienne pulls the hood off of Jaime's head once the horse is gone, his eyes squinting in the light for a moment.
"You're much uglier in daylight." Lyra resists the urge to kick him, Brienne hauling him to his feet, directing him towards the river. "What's your name? I'm Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, son of Tywin." Brienne stays silent, guiding him to the river, Lyra following. "A captive knight has a right to know his captor's identity."
"Brienne of Tarth." Brienne finally answers him.
"Tarth, Tarth, Tarth. Crescent moons and starbursts. Lord...Selwyn Tarth, your father." Brienne keeps quiet and Lyra admires her for that. She would have hit Jaime by now had he been addressing her. "Do you have any brothers and sisters, my lady?" She still stays quiet, Jaime going on incessantly. "It's a long way to King's Landing. Might as well get to know one another. Have you known many men? I suppose not. Women? Horses?" Jaime cries out as Brienne forces him rather roughly to the ground by the boat. "I didn't mean to give offense, my lady. Forgive me."
Lyra stays back, hidden by the trees as Brienne looks over Jaime's head upriver.
"Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer." Brienne says quietly, watching a wagon make its way across the bridge upriver from them. No doubt Robb had sent men after them already. He would spread word through his allies to find his escaped prisoner who had taken his sister with them.
"Why do you hate me so much? Have I ever harmed you?"
"You've harmed others. Those you were sworn to protect. The weak, the innocent."
"Has anyone ever told you you're as boring as you are ugly?"
"You will not provoke me to anger." Brienne says, lifting Jaime to his feet again.
"I already have." Jaime says, a laughing lilt to his voice. "Look at you. You're ready to chop my head off." Brienne makes her way back to the boat, dragging it into the water. "Do you think you could? Do you think you could beat me in a fair fight?"
"I've never seen you fight."
"The answer is no. There are three men in the kingdoms who might have a chance against me. You're not one of them."
"All my life men like you have sneered at me. And all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust."
"If you're so confident, unlock my chains. Let's see what happens."
Brienne looks up at Jaime, holding the boat. "Do you take me for an idiot? In."
Jaime climbs into the boat. "I took you for a fighter, a man - pardon- woman of honor. Was I wrong? You're afraid."
Brienne holds the boat for Lyra, letting her get in as well. She sits behind Jaime, facing Brienne. There was only one oar, but Lyra would have been glad to help Brienne paddle them downriver.
"Maybe one day we'll find out, Kingslayer." Brienne pushes off the bank, starting to paddle them downriver.
Jaime's head comes to rest against Lyra's knee from his spot at the bottom of the boat. "Please tell me you're at least going to be good company during this journey."
"You're the one who forced me to come along, Kingslayer. Don't expect me to be a good source of company."
"I see your time in the Riverlands hasn't warmed that frozen Northern heart of yours. Still as cold as ice, wolf pup."
"Don't call me that." Lyra snaps, watching their backs upriver while Brienne takes them farther and farther from her brother's camp, and her brother.
Lyra pins the last of her hair up, smoothing her hands along her dress. Royal blue to bring out the Tully blue of her eyes. She pulls her cloak on, black just like her brother's. It's nicer than the one she preferred to wear, but the king would be arriving soon. She had to make sure she looked her best.
There's a knock on her door and she calls for them to enter, expecting her mother checking on her, but she's surprised to see her father there. He looks over her, smiling softly but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you, father."
He's silent for a moment, staring at her. "I should have warned you of this sooner. Do not be surprised if the king arranges a marriage while he is here." Lyra feels her stomach drop, a cold chill seeping into her skin. "I will try to deter him as much as I can, Lyra, but once Robert makes up his mind...you may be forced to make a decision before he does it for you."
"Or I may end up married to Prince Joffrey. Sansa would never forgive me."
Eddard can't help but smile a bit. "I know you don't want to leave the North. But I'd rather you choose in the end than have a marriage forced on you."
"Yes father." Lyra nods.
Eddard cups her face, kissing her forehead. "Keep it in mind. You will have a couple of days, no doubt Robert will be more interested in the feast than anything."
Lyra nods again, blinking back tears. Eddard squeezes her hand before leaving her room, Lyra taking a couple deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She should have known this was coming. It was high time she was at least engaged, being as eligible as she was. Of course the king would want to see that she be married off, more than likely to his own son Joffrey. She was determined to avoid that situation seeing as Sansa was already so in love with the idea of marrying Joffrey and becoming a princess. Sansa would hate her forever if she stole that chance from her.
Nearly the entire castle has gathered for the King's arrival. Lyra is standing front and center with her family, at her place between Robb and Sansa as the king's party rides into the gates. She watches them come in, filling up the courtyard quickly. The rider that had come announcing the king's proximity the night before had said they had a large party with them, but Lyra still wasn't expecting half of King's Landing to come. Robb glances at Sansa as Prince Joffrey rides in, Lyra following his gaze back to Sansa next to her. Sansa is staring at him with a small smile on her face. Sansa had been going on about marrying Joffrey for the past month. Ever since their father had told them of the king and his family riding for Winterfell. Sansa had been sure the king would want her to marry Joffrey. Sansa had always been the romantic, dreaming of knights and princesses and happy endings. Lyra loves her younger sister, but she wishes she would be more sensible and keep her head on her shoulders instead of in the clouds.
The wheelhouse enters next, the King riding in after it. The courtyard drops to a knee as the king rides in, climbing off his horse with the help of a couple stable boys. The King approaches the line of Starks, stopping in front of Ned. He motions for them to stand, the courtyard rising to its feet again.
"Your Grace." Ned bows to the king.
King Robert looks over his old friend. "You've got fat." It's silent between them for a moment, Ned giving Robert a look before Robert bursts out laughing. They embrace each other as old friends, Robert greeting Catelyn with a hug next. "Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"
"Guarding the North for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours."
Robert moves down the line of Starks, stopping at Robb. "Who have we here? You must be Robb." Robb nods, shaking the king's hand.
Lyra's breath nearly catches in her throat as he stops in front of her, looking her over. "And you must by Lyra."
Lyra nods. "Yes, your grace."
"You look just like your mother."
Lyra lets out a deep breath as Robert moves down the line, greeting the rest of the Starks. The Queen comes forward to be greeted by Ned and Catelyn while Robert demands to be taken to the crypts, Ned having no choice to acquiesce to the demand. The courtyard erupts into movement then, everyone going to do their assigned duties. Robb squeezes Lyra's hand, Lyra not even aware she had grabbed it. He gives her a soft smile before disappearing into the crowd.
Despite having eaten little that day, Lyra finds she doesn't have much of a stomach for food. She's seated below the high table with her siblings, the king's men mixed in with her father's own men. She has scanned the room a few times to see if she can spot Jory but she can't pick him out in the crowd of moving bodies. She tries not to linger on the king where he's fondling a serving girl rather openly. Lyra knows who it is and she's not very surprised. Not that she would have turned down the king's advances if she had been in that position. Better to play along than risk being beheaded by a drunk king.
She has a terrifying thought of her future, marrying some repulsive Lord and watching him fondle serving girls during their dinners. Even worse if she's the one being openly fondled by some fat, sweaty old lord with wine on his breath. She stares down at her half empty plate, her stomach churning violently.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Robb says, his brow furrowing as he stares at her.
Lyra flounders for a moment before finding her voice again. "I need some air."
She stands from the table, slipping through the crowd and out the door. The cold air nearly knocks the wind out of her, a stark comparison to the stuffy, humid air inside the great hall. Lyra moves away from the door and the noise, walking up the stairs to one of the walkways, stopping so she's looking out over the courtyard. There's a few people milling about but her gaze is drawn upwards, to the many stars overhead. She wishes she could leave the castle, sneak out and see them without the glare of the light below but her father would be livid if she left the castle now, especially alone.
"Not enjoying the feast?"
Lyra nearly jumps out of her skin, whirling around to face the voice that had spoken. She hadn't even heard him following or approaching her.
"I needed some air." She says, her body not relaxing when the figure finally comes into the light.
"It is rather stuffy inside. Though the heat is preferable to the bitter cold of the North." Jaime Lannister says, coming to stand next to her, leaning against the railing facing her.
"That's because you're not used to it, Ser." She says, turning to face him out of sheer politeness. He was the queen's twin brother after all.
He smirks at her. "Now, which one are you? I can't keep all of you straight."
"Lyra. The oldest girl."
He nods. "That's right. The twin. That must be part of the reason you haven't been betrothed yet. I can't blame you, I followed my sister to King's Landing, gave up my right to Casterly Rock in order to stay by her side. Or perhaps you just haven't received any offers yet because you terrify all of the men with that icy little heart of yours."
Lyra can't help but bristle a bit. "I have had plenty of offers, Ser."
"None good enough for you, then?"
"None interesting enough. Excuse me, Ser."
She brushes past him, heading back towards the great hall. Something about Jaime Lannister made her very skin crawl, set her stomach twisting and not in a good way. She hurries once she's out of sight of him, not wanting to get caught near him alone again. She heads back to the doors she left through, her eyes on the ground in front of her and she nearly walks into a body coming out of the same doors.
"Jory!" She yelps in surprise, Jory's hands reaching out to steady her.
"Lyra, are you alright? Your mother sent me to find you, she's getting worried."
Lyra takes a couple of breaths to calm her racing heart. "Yes, I'm alright. I needed some air." Jory nods, not moving his hands from her arms. "I think I could use a little more now, too."
Jory smirks at her, his hands sliding down her arms and she takes his hand, pulling him into a dark corner away from the door.
"I was looking for you tonight." She says, leaning back against a wall.
"I'm sorry, I was sitting with some of the Kingsguard. I would have much rather been sitting near you." He leans against the wall, caging her in.
"My mother would have had a fit if you did."
He smirks, leaning in so they're almost touching. "She'll have a fit if we don't back in there soon."
She closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, cupping his face. He tastes of wine and smells like firewood and leather, driving her nearly insane. She pulls him closer, her hands gripping his leather tunic, his own hand falling to her waist. She kisses him with abandon, all thoughts of her possible looming engagement leaving her head. Perhaps she could run away with Jory, sail to the free cities and live there happily for the rest of her life. But would she be happy so far away from her family? So far away from Robb whom she'd never been more than a few miles away from?
She pulls away from Jory after a moment, biting her lip. "We're going to get in trouble."
Jory nods. "Probably. I'll just say you were hiding and I had to practically walk the castle to find you."
Lyra smiles. "You're a good man, Jory."
She smooths out her dress again, making sure her hair is still in a decent state before making her way back to the great hall, back to the feast.
It had been two days since the king's arrival and her father had given his answer finally. He would accept the position as Hand of the King and go south to be in King's Landing. There had been no mention of an engagement, no mention of who he would be taking with him. The suspense was nearly killing Lyra and she had made up her mind to go and ask her father.
It was late in the evening, her younger siblings already in bed for the night, or they were supposed to be. Lyra climbs the stairs to her father's study but voices reach her as she nears the door. She had thought he would be alone but she can hear now the king is with him.
"And what about your oldest girl? Still not betrothed or married, Ned?"
They were talking about her. Lyra sneaks closer to the cracked door, listening in on their conversation.
"No. There have been plenty of offers but I haven't chosen for her yet. I was hoping to let her choose but she seems determined to stay in Winterfell as long as possible."
"She's your daughter, Ned. It shouldn't be her choice." There's a pause, Lyra assuming as the King takes a drink of wine. "Renly still isn't married. It's about time he settled down. Your daughters, Lady of the Stormlands and a princess." The king laughs. "Your eldest daughter to my brother, your middle daughter to my son, can't unite our family's any closer than that."
Lyra feels as if her throat is closing. Was the king serious or was this just some drunken decision he'd forget in the morning? She puts a hand over her mouth to muffle any noises that may escape as she continues to listen to the conversation.
"We'll leave in two days time for King's Landing. All three of your girls will come with us. I'll give a month for wedding preparations before your oldest marries Renly and then send them back to Storm's End. The other one will have to wait, of course, but before we know it they'll be married as well."
Lyra can't listen anymore, her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest. She makes a hasty retreat down the stairs, not caring if they hear her. Tears are blurring her vision as she stumbles through her door and into her room. Winter looks up from her spot at the end of the bed as Lyra enters. She doesn't even know if she gets her door closed before she throws herself on her bed, muffling her sobs in her furs.
Winter lays down beside her, nudging at her with her nose. She'd grown fast in the month she'd been with Lyra, almost double the size she had been. Her coat was turning a darker grey color, making the white streaks show up more and more. Even if she was forced kicking and screaming from Winterfell, she wouldn't leave Winter behind. She couldn't have everything taken from her and expect to give up Winter too. She felt a bond with her unlike even the one she shared with Robb. Sometimes she felt like Winter could read her mind, stare into her very soul. It was comforting to her, for the same reason she was hesitant to leave Robb. They shared a bond no one could understand, not their siblings or their parents. A bond even they couldn't quite understand themselves.
