A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger. This chapter should clear up things :)

I have just begun posting new chapters to the story Last Hope of Westeros on Archive of Our Own. Be sure to check it out :D

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 6: Betrothed

"This is an outrage!" Brandon Stark was a man of quite open emotion, but never had he been so enraged in his life. Ned thought that if his face was any redder, steam would be coming out of his ears. "I don't fucking care if he's the King! No sister of mine will be ripped away from us and made some damn Dragonspawn's pillow slave!"

"Please, brother," Ned stated. Palms pressing on the taller Stark's chest. "Calm down."

"Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!" If Brandon could be called enraged, he didn't know what words in seven hells he could use to describe what Robert was.

They were in the Stark tent, himself, his father, Brandon, and Robert discussing the matter - in the corner sat Lyanna, lost in her own thoughts and staring into the distance. Dacey had wanted to help her to her bed, but Rickard had dismissed her for the night. Ned worried over her, especially since no one had asked her opinion in all of this. "Yes, Robert, calm down. There is no sense in panicking."

"She is your sister! Your sister and MY BRIDE!" The second of the Stark sons didn't overlook how Lyanna flinched at Robert's last words, soulful gaze flashing an icy anger for but a moment. He would inquire later, the Stag Lord's ranting taking center stage. "...some mad, scheming dragonspawn King whoring my bride out to his rapist son…"

"Enough," Rickard said firmly, himself seated at his camp desk. He was just as pensive as Lyanna, though not disengaged. Ned could tell he was pulling back. Trying to see the situation from the outside, his father not falling into the rage trap Brandon and Robert were. Though he was angry… even seething. "We are going to stop yelling. Varys the Spider has spies everywhere." Such was the first thing Jon Arryn had warned Ned about, and he passed it on to his father. A whole two dozen Stark Household Guards stood outside the tent, fully armed just in case.

While both Brandon and Robert stopped yelling, it was clear their anger hadn't dimmed. "Call the banners, father," Bran demanded, slamming his fist down on the table. "I'll be damned if my sister will be sold like a whore."

"You'll have the Stormlands behind you, Lord Stark," Robert boasted, chest puffing out. "I don't care if they are my cousins. This means war."

"I'll marry Catelyn tomorrow, bind the Riverlands on our side. I'm sure the Vale and Tywin Lannister would…"

Rickard slammed his fist on the table in counter to Brandon. Losing his patience. "No one is calling any banners." Ned let out a relieved breath. He'd always taken after his father's cooler head. "I am not going to war with the crown without more information. I thought better of you, my son."

Brandon bristled. "But father…" He was cut off by Ned jabbing him in the ribs, gesturing inconspicuously to Lyanna. His brother gulped down whatever retort he had and nodded.

Standing, the Lord of Winterfell glanced at the Lord of Storm's End. "My Lord, we can discuss this further with Lord Arryn and Lord Tully. Perhaps a united front between our four kingdoms can dissuade or influence the King."

In spite of being on an equal footing with Rickard, the fact that the northerner was twice his age put Robert on the disadvantage. He sounded much like Jon Arryn or his own father scolding him after doing something stupid. With a sigh, he relented. "Alright, Lord Stark." Robert then turned to Ned. "I'll stop this, Ned. I'll stop this auction if it's the last thing I do. My bride will not be treated this way, even by the King." Each word working him up further, the purple tint to his face made it back to prominence as he left the tent.

"Watch your sister," Rickard warned to his sons, following the Stormlands lord.

All left in the tent were Brandon, Ned, and their sister. Still sitting quietly, looking nothing like the proud, headstrong girl that had so terrorized and at the same time breathed joy into Winterfell at the same time. Oh Lya… The announcement by King Aerys concerned her the most - it was only natural she was floored. Ned was by her side in an instant. "Lya? Sister, are you alright?" He sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder comfortingly. "Do you need anything?"

Blinking, Lyanna came out of her haze. All she had really heard of their conversation was Robert's possessive pronouncements, ones that repulsed and scared her at the same time. Robert Baratheon the cad was one thing, but the infuriated Lord of Storm's End bringing the fury was another matter entirely. Who knew what he was capable of? "Ned… oh no, Ned. I'm fine. Just… processing everything." It was true. Even in her wildest dreams did she not imagine the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself would decree this of anyone… let alone her.

"How can you be fine, sister?" Brandon clenched his fists. "This is an injustice of the highest order! I won't let Rhaegar turn you into his pillow slave while Elia fucking Martell gets to be Queen."

Rhaegar… Everytime she had worried, everytime she had thought of Robert or heard Robert, Lyanna had thought of the Prince. "Brandon, it's alright." Rhaegar's silver hair, his violet eyes, his voice… Gods, that voice… Almost divine in her mind. Just the thought of him calmed her down. "The Prince wouldn't do that to me."

Ned noticed something in her tone. It wasn't wishful thinking. "What do you mean…"

But nothing was calming Brandon down, his ranting cutting them off and working him back into a frenzy. "Just like that fucking whoremonger Aegon the Unworthy! He'll make you breed his bastards and laugh while doing it. I should kill the cunt right now!"

"Don't be rash," Ned cautioned, rising to hold onto his brother. "I'm not letting you die for treason!"

"And I'm not letting Lyanna be raped by that dragonspawn!"

Lyanna was frantic. "Bran…" Here she was faced with a potential dream, and Brandon's impulsiveness was rapidly turning it into a nightmare. "Please, don't get yourself killed for me. I couldn't bear it."

He knelt beside her, taking both of her hands in his. "Don't worry Lya. I don't care what father says - I'll call the banners and join with Robert. We won't allow that madman of a king forsake your honor and steal you from your rightful husband!"

"You will not do anything of the sort, Bran!" The mere mention of Robert as a husband drew her ire. "I…"

"What?! We can't let..." Gods, let me talk!

Ned held up a hand, stilling his brother. "Lya... why don't you want us to?"

She looked closely at both of them. "I want to marry the Crown Prince!" Lyanna blurted out. Immediately blushing at how blunt she was.

Both Ned and Brandon looked at their sister like she just grew three heads. Mouths gaping open like fish. Neither had expected anything of the sort. "WHAT?!" Brandon roared, more from shock than anything resembling anger. All rage had drained away from him.

Biting her lip, Lyanna nodded. "Tell father to accept the King's decree…" I want my Daemon... "That's what I want."

Taking his seat beside Lyanna once more, Ned motioned for his brother to pull up a chair across from them. Sighing, Brandon poured himself a goblet of wine and complied. Sipping from the liquid. "Lya, offers of marriage are not to be considered lightly. The King may have ordered it, but I don't want you to feel compelled to accept something simply because he said it. You have the whole of the North behind you, sister."

The thought of King Aerys bringing fire and blood to her homeland did weigh on Lyanna's mind but it wasn't important. There was no way she would refuse this. "I would accept the betrothal even if it was completely voluntary on my part." Even she was surprised at how even her voice was, given the tumult of the last day.

"Lya, have you gone mad?" While Ned was simply shocked, Brandon was incredulous. "I don't think you understand the implications of this. The Crown Prince is already married to Princess Elia Martell. King Aerys implied he would want to duplicate Aegon the Conqueror and marry you to his son without an annulment." He downed his wine, needing alcohol to fortify him. "Forget about the complete shitstorm with the Faith and the Dornish, you'll be a second wife. Having to share your husband with another woman… a woman he already has had children with."

Such facts struck Lyanna harshly. In all truth, she had forgotten the fact that Rhaegar was married. Wed to a woman who was said to be one of the great beauties of the Seven Kingdoms. You could end up being second best to him. Second fiddle. Visenya Targaryen came to mind, married out of duty rather than love. Forced to grow old and bitter.

"Could you really share a husband, Lya?" Ned asked. His tone was softer than Brandon's, but no less tough and searching.

The image of Rhaegar in the woods, his voice serenading the very gods themselves, came back to mind. Part of Lyanna thought she had fallen in love with him in that very moment. "I wouldn't care if he had six brides like Maegor the Cruel. I still want to marry him." Never having met Rhaegar, somehow Lyanna just knew. Instinct perhaps, or something deeper - a spiritual intuition that told her to charge forth with her heart.

Brandon's eyes bugged out of his skull. "Why in the seven hells would you prefer being a second wife instead of having a normal marriage? Of being the Lady of Storm's End for gods' sake?!"

There it was. The betrothal to Robert - Lyanna had found her way out and she was taking it. Only a sadistic monster would be a worse husband than Lord Baratheon, and that same intuition told her Rhaegar wasn't that at all. "I know I'll be happy with the Prince," she finally said.

Ned raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure about that, sister?"

"As sure as I know I would never be happy with Robert," she spat back. The feeling of his lips on hers, his uncaring hands only caring for his own pleasure as he groped and prepared to take her, it made Lyanna feel dirty.

"It's just because of the bastard, Lya?" Brandon was in disbelief. "Many highborns have bastards. It's nothing to throw your life away over…"

"More about how he essentially forced himself on me," Lyanna finally ground out. "And then the whores he bought from Chataya's right after when I wouldn't lay with him." Gods, it felt cathartic to finally get that out to someone other than Dacey.

There was silence - complete silence. Her brothers both utterly flabbergasted, jaws dropped nearly on the floor. "W… what?" Ned asked. More like murmured.

She shuddered just thinking about it. "When we met, he talked like I was his already. Then he kissed me. Pushing me onto his cot and groping me all over like I was one of his whores."

"When. Was. This?" Her older brother's anger was bubbling back to the surface.

Honestly, Lyanna felt better now that it was directed at someone that deserved it. "When he came to meet me for the first time. I pushed him away though. I wasn't dishonored." Even she had to be fair to him.

That wasn't going to calm Brandon down. "Oh, I'm gonna take Ice and castrate the son of a bitch myself!" His voice was deathly serious. "No one forces himself on my sister and has a cock to show for it!"

While she was glad his support of Robert had evaporated, Lyanna couldn't have him declare war on the Stormlands. She rose, moving to cup his cheek. "It was just a kiss. He stopped when I told him to - it was more that…" How could she put what truly disgusted her into words? "He just… seemed to expect me to let him take my maidenhead right then and there. Like I was his property." That did not seem to help. "Bran… calm down. Please?"

Nodding, clamping his lips shut, Brandon's rage didn't dampen. The same anger he had borne towards the Targaryens now directed at Robert Baratheon. Fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white, teeth grinding almost into fine powder. Breathing in and out to calm himself. Lyanna taking her seat back. "Alright. I'm steady. I'm calm." He grabbed his cloak off one of the chests throwing it over his shoulders. "As heir to Winterfell, I will make it my duty to end all discussion of any betrothal to Lord Robert Baratheon. I do not care if he's your friend, Ned, but it's over. Over my dead body will I allow it." Glaring at Ned for a moment, he leaned down and kissed Lyanna on the forehead. "I have your back, Lya."

Letting out a breath she had been holding in since Winterfell, Lyanna felt a weight being lifted off her chest. "Thank you." She hugged him tightly. "Love you, Bran."

"Love you too, Lya." With that, Brandon stormed out, leaving her and Ned alone.

The second son was withdrawn into himself, brooding hard. Lyanna knew he was killing himself inside. "Ned… brother?" She leaned forward, now her turn to comfort him. "Talk to me."

"Did Robert really do that to you?" It wasn't rape, Lyanna wasn't alleging that, but even what she did claim was dishonor in and of itself. You never claim a woman like that unless you know she consents. "I need to know."

Lyanna hung her head, hating that she was hurting her brother so. "Yes." Her blood boiled hotter, especially because it caused Ned pain. "After he forced that kiss on me, I followed him to a brothel. Do you know what he shouted for all those whores to hear?"

Already he felt like an idiot. "I hesitate to ask."

Lyanna's cheeks flared red with anger. "He said 'This beast may soon be shackled but it wont forget this heaven of booze and women anytime soon!'" Ire only falling at how it affected Ned.

Ned's brooding only darkened. "I am such a fool." Without warning, he smacked his palm against the side of his head. Hard. "I'm such a fucking fool."

Saying nothing at first, Lyanna merely hugged her brother. "It is not your fault, Ned. Had you known…" Her brother was loyal to a fault, his honor compelling him to stand behind both a friend and a sibling. From the bottom of her heart she knew that he only suggested the marriage because he thought it would be the best for her. "You would never have made the suggestion if you knew what Robert really was like."

"He's not a…" Shaking his head, Ned stopped defending his friend. "I should have known. There were rumors going around the Eyrie, and he always kept company with various reprobates, but I just accepted his denials and explanations at face value." He looked up at his sister, tears in his eyes. "I thought you could tame his wild ways, but this… I'm sorry, Lya."

"I forgive you, Ned," she replied with a sincere, if soft, smile. "Bran will make sure father breaks the negotiations. Nothing was officially made. What's done is done." It was surreal, talking about what a few hours ago had been unbearable chains as if it were nothing. Ethereal strands of thread that could be snapped by a mere jerk of a finger.

Nodding, Ned brooded silently for a moment before something came to his mind. Looking up, peering at Lyanna quizzically. "The Crown Prince?" With the firestorm of what Robert had done to her, Bran and he had completely forgotten.

This time, Lyanna blushed. "Aye, the Crown Prince." Her lips curved up into a smile, growing wider and more radiant as she thought of the beautiful silver dragon. Ned was taken aback… he had never seen the She-Wolf of Winterfell act like such a lovestruck maiden. "The prince is everything Robert could never be. Compassionate, loyal, gentlemanly, gentle, and more."

"Has he met you? How would you know?"

"I just do… instinct." Seeing Ned raise a single eyebrow, Lyanna knew she couldn't pay him off with that. "I rode Winter into the forest earlier today. There I saw the Prince singing."

"Singing?" Ned sees how Lya just looks off into the distance. Face dreamy and with that adoring smile growing wider.

She nodded vociferously. "Dear gods, it was incredible, the way his long pale fingers caressed the strings of his harp... His voice was so sad and beautiful as he sang, Ned. Even the birds stopped to hear him."

Never in his life did Ned ever think he'd be in this situation. To see Lyanna this way. It was concerning… but also something he had hoped for so long for her - happiness. Love and joy. "You're really falling for him," he said quietly.

"I am, brother, and I hope… I pray he feels the same."

"He'd be a fool not to." There was still so much to discuss. So much that bothered him about this. "I'm still not comfortable with him still being married. Targaryens did it before, but only all the respect in the world is good enough for my little sister." He didn't care that the King demanded it - Lyanna deserved the best. "I'll have a talk with him... I think it will require a level head that Brandon just doesn't have."

"Brandon has a level head, it's just between his legs."

The two of them blinked at each other before bursting out into laughter. Letting their stress and nerves go at the jape. "Oh gods, that was a good one," Ned choked out, trying to compose himself. "If you truly wish to marry the Prince after everything is sorted out, then I'll support you."

Lyanna beamed. "Thank you, Ned."

He returned the smile. "Prince Rhaegar is a lucky man - getting you for a wife."

For the second time that night, Lyanna allowed herself a dreamy smile. Allowed herself to be a starstruck maiden of ten and seven. "I'm lucky as well, Ned... I'm likely getting my Prince Daemon." She giggled. Actually giggled.

"Oh seven hells," Ned groaned, rolling his eyes rather outlandishly. "Not that damn book again."

Frowning, Lyanna grabbed a pillow from her loveseat and smacked him with it. "Shut it." Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Ned smiled and pulled his sister into a brotherly hug. One she quickly returned. I really am a fool. Every part of him had been so sure Robert would change his ways for Lya, but the truth was he didn't even know what Robert really was. I can only hope that the Crown Prince is anything like the one in her book. For all her strength, the she-wolf of Winterfell likely couldn't survive another failed match.

Especially this one.


Had the servants not known what was good for them, they would have stared in complete shock. The King was in a good mood. A very good mood. One not induced by sadistic power plays, humiliating poor courtiers, or abusing his wife the Queen. No, this was… completely genuine. Laughter falling from his lips and joy lighting up his eyes for the first time since Duskendale.

"Oh, that was delightful, so delightful," Aerys gushed as he removed his crown - placing it atop a plush purple cushion. "Tee hee, the looks on all those cunts. It was like I had hatched a dragon from my own ass." The giggles that streamed from him were so unlike Aerys, but came all the same.

As wary as all others in the room - more so, even - Rhaegar stayed several paces behind his father. Not wanting to get too close, the King's paranoia likely to act up if someone crowded up to him while his back was turned. "Your Grace, I feel it unwise that you announced the betrothal without informing Lord Stark." After escorting his mother and brother to bed, this had been his first stop.

"Bah." The King waved him off. "That was the best part of the night. I think the Northern oaf's son was about to spit out his wine everywhere!" Humming, Aerys began to dance about to imaginary music. He had been quite the dancer in his youth, Rhaella telling her son about the countless balls he enjoyed showing her off in on the dance floor. The madness and paranoia seemed to kill that part of him, but here he was.

Rhaegar wasn't the only other person in the room. "Why make an alliance with the Starks, your Grace?" asked Hand Jon Connington, suppressed anger and pain evident on his face. Unlike the other loyalists who were concerned, Connington seemed to take it personally - Rhaegar had no idea why. "They offer you nothing."

The King stopped dancing. "They offer me everything!" Coughing, Aerys made his way to the decanter of wine. Easing his throat with the fine Arbor gold. "Tywin is plotting, you see, and this she-wolf brat holds the key to keeping him in check." Rhaegar suppressed the urge to ball his fists tightly at how his father spoke of Lyanna. It was similar to how he reacted to the constant japes about Elia… only more intense. What?

"She was about to be betrothed to Lord Robert Baratheon, my Liege Lord." Griffin's Roost was in the Stormlands, meaning Robert officially outranked Connington outside of the King's favor. "I was sitting with him. The anger was worse than Fourteen Flames. Perhaps it is wiser to allow the betrothal to go through…"

Feeling a sudden surge of jealousy and protectiveness course through him that surprised Rhaegar, the Prince was nevertheless saved by his father. "No, fuck him. Stupid father should have married my older sister to Dunk instead of Robert's drunken, whoring grandfather. Maybe then Dunk wouldn't have acted like a fucking idiot and cohabited with that whore. We'd have more Targaryens and wouldn't be facing the Doom." Only Rhaegar knew what he meant, the others blinking confusion.

Jowls flopping, Mace Tyrell stepped forward - once the happiest man in the Seven Kingdoms after his infant daughter was 'betrothed' to Viserys, now he had grown pale. "Your Grace, my wife is a Hightower…"

"I wouldn't brag about that, but go on, Lord Peacock." The King guffawed at his own jape.

If Mace chose to ignore the insult or was too much a dolt to understand it - Rhaegar bet on the latter - he didn't let on. "The Hightowers are quite pious, and have a long history with the Faith of the Seven. Based on my insight, they will not take kindly to this… polygamy. It's what caused the rebellion against King Maegor."

Rhaegar snorted, impressed at the foresight. First thought of his that didn't come from his mother... probably parroting his wife. Mace was a kindhearted fellow, but he lacked the brainpower for anything that insightful.

"The doctrine of exceptionalism that old king Jae established gives me the damn right, so the Faith can shove it up their arses. We are dragons, Rhaegar and I. We answer to neither gods nor men, let alone a bunch of funny little men in robes." Mace withdrew, chastised. "Now leave me be. Let me enjoy my evening." Rhaegar couldn't be told any further.

Shutting the door to an image of the King gliding about the solar, robes swaying and an old Valyrian ditty about a dragonrider in a Lysene brothel tumbling from his lips, Rhaegar sighed and half collapsed against the stone wall of the hallway. "At least one of us is happy," he mumbled. Granted, upon catching a glimpse of the fiery, gorgeous Lyanna Stark, he wasn't completely unhappy with his now betrothed. And yet would she want anything to do with me? The best case in his mind was Elia, an utterly gorgeous and perfect wife that he was denied happiness with.

"I don't like this, my Prince. It's you and that Martell girl all over again." Apparently Jon Connington thought amongst similar lines - if with different opinions. "Can't the King find someone you want to be with?"

Rhaegar frowned. "She is still my wife, Jon. I've said this before, treat her with respect." The Lord of Griffin's Roost was a close friend, his closest besides Arthur. Practically joined at the hip for the last years before maturity, when Lord Tywin had finally been dismissed Connington was Rhaegar's first choice for his father to name as the new Hand. Someone young, vigorous, and smart. He had proven a strong ally on the Small Council and a loyal administrator, but the Prince couldn't help feel a tension since he had married Elia. The tension only rising.

The Hand of the King looked… sad. Forlorn even. "She was never worthy of you Rhaegar." Connington stepped forward, face only inches apart from the prince's. Rhaegar smelling wine on his breath. A glassy look in his eyes before there was realization and he pulled back. Clearing his throat. "Neither is the Stark bi… girl. There is nothing that the north can offer House Targaryen. They abandoned the crown in the Blackfyre Rebellions and would only antagonize the Faith. Convince your father to change his mind."

Obvious retort forming on his lips, when Rhaegar tried to speak it simply died on his tongue. Refusing to come out, his mind refusing to let it be uttered. You've tried to change his mind, but he will never change it. The image of the beautiful she-wolf fighting the squires twice her weight burned in his mind. Something that told him more than stacks of tomes ever could. Could it be that you truly want this betrothal?

"I can't explain it, Jon, but it feels as if this is my destiny."

Lips forming into a grimace, Connington only nodded. "I'll pray this doesn't ruin you, Rhaegar. It would kill me if anything happened to you." Bowing, the Hand of the King made his exit. Leaving the Prince to face the gravity of his new fate alone.


One moment she was asleep in an unfamiliar bed - in a castle of pure black and gray - and the next a warm sensation had roused her. Causing Lyanna's lids to open… only to flutter closed. Long moan leaving her mouth. "Ohhhh… my Prince…"

Kissing up her body was the silver-haired god from the forest. Rhaegar Targaryen, showering her skin with kisses. With open mouth sucks that left marks upon her body - ones she had often chided Brandon for getting from the servant girls. But far from being disgusted, she only moaned louder. Weaving her hands in silver locks and pulling him to her mouth. "Kiss me. Fuck me, my dragon."

He roared like a dragon would, attacking her lips. Lining his length at her entrance and pushing in. Sensations alien to her… "Ahhh… Don't… stop." Unfamiliar but so, so good. A feeling that Lyanna prayed never ended…

The she-wolf bolted out of her cot, sucking in breaths of the chilled air. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, nightgown clinging to the curves of her body. "What in Seven Hells…" Lyanna murmured. A hand drifted to her chest. Calming her beating heart.

Stills of her dream flashed in her mind, causing Lyanna to flush an even darker red… as well as another part of her flushing rather hotly. Gods, I've got it bad. The last day had been a complete whirlwind, disgusted by the Lord of Storm's End only to find out she was betrothed by royal decree to the Crown Prince.

"Fuck me, my dragon."

Falling back onto the bed, Lyanna's hand involuntarily snuck under her nightgown. Finding her flower slick with her juices. Blazing hot, sensitive to the touch. She rarely did this. Rarely found the need to, but by the old gods and the new, even the thought of her Prince Daemon… My Prince Daemon? Yes, he was hers now. By decree of the King, the most beautiful man Lyanna had ever seen was hers.

"Fuck… fuck… fuck…" she murmured softly, biting her lip to keep anyone in the tent from hearing her. Fingers swiping hard against her own clit, wishing, imagining it was the Prince doing all the things she had heard Dacey or the young servant girls brag or giggle about. Things more akin to a wanton whore than a proper lady, but she didn't care. She wanted all of it, all with him… "Ahhhh…" Her cunt gushed, the most powerful climax of her life ripping through her. All without him even being close.

Lyanna remembered how intently those violet eyes stared at her. Does he dream about me, lust after me like I do him? She felt a tingle at the thought he might…

"Psst…" Yelping, Lyanna frantically smoothed down her nightgown under the furs as Dacey slipped through the flaps. "You asleep?"

Not wanting anyone to know of her… wantonness, Lyanna hid it behind a flash of indignancy. "I was. Until a rather loud she-bear of a lady in waiting woke me up," she huffed.

Dacey saw right through her. "Oh really?" A smirk crossed her face. "Has nothing to do with the love flush on your cheeks?" At that Lyanna reddened even further. "Thinking of your dragon prince the King is sooo kind to hand to you on a silver platter?"

"Is it that obvious?" she said quietly.

"We're all girls here. If I were in your position I'd try to sneak into his chambers and claim him, wife or no wife." She laughed at Lyanna's further embarrassment - it was so unlike her, the fiery she-wolf turned into both a lovestruck maiden and sex-starved harlot. Simply hilarious. But it was beside the point. "I'll leave it alone, get up," Dacey whispered, tossing her mistress a fur cloak to cover up.

Lyanna blinked. "What… why?"

"Waldron Frey paid Lord Reed a visit with some of his household guards." Grey eyes widened at that, Dacey nodding firmly. "He's waiting outside the tent. One of your guards is asleep so we can sneak out to him." Nowhere did she ask if Lyanna wished to. From the determined frown and icy gaze in her eyes, the she-wolf made her answer obvious.

As Dacey had said, one of the guards had fallen asleep, wine gourd collapsed on the ground beside him. Lyanna rolled her eyes, resolving to tell her father in the morning - with the King's announcement making her the future joint Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the lack of attention paid to House Stark was over. In the near term, it was easy to sneak past the snoring guard, quickly ducking around several tents to find the Lord of Greywater Watch. He stood in his leather armor, beaver skin coat wrapped around his barrel chest. "Howland?" At Lyanna's voice, he turned, causing her to gasp at his split lip, swollen cheek, bruised jaw, and two black eyes. "The Freys?"

Howland nods, wincing even at the slightest movement. "Apparently he was 'defending the honor of his squire.'" Gently, Lyanna reached up to caress the bruises - she was pretty tall for northern women, exactly Ned's height at a five foot ten. She towered over the far shorter Howland, lacking half a head on her. Her touch, far from stinging, comforted his wounds like ice. "He wanted to know the 'rancid, rug-munching cunt' that fought his squire off. I told him it was a camp follower from White Harbor and he seemed to believe it."

Anger coursed through her - in this she took exactly after her mother like Brandon did. "We are going to avenge you, Howland."

"How?" While the prospect of humiliating Waldron Frey did appeal to the wounded crannogman, having Lyanna do it worried him. "I heard of your betrothal. I'd rather not be the cause of any royal scandal that ropes in the King and Crown Prince."

"There are ways to work it around so that it doesn't track back to Lyanna," Dacey mused. "The Freys are idiots, so they won't put two and two together."

An idea suddenly clicked into Lyanna's head. One that she could almost imagine her father scolding her over and Brandon yelling that she was mad, but it refused to leave her mind. Resolve growing by each moment that passed. They'll be on the watch for me… but not on the watch for Howland. "Does Waldron Frey plan to enter any of the contests?"

Both fellow northerners peered at Lyanna quizzically. Her statement abrupt and out of nowhere. "He wants to enter the joust. Says he's a great horseman."

Dacey snorted. "Likely because he's too much of a reed to fight in the melee against Gerold Hightower or Jaime Lannister."

Howland couldn't help but smile softly. Wanting to laugh but in too much pain. "The Haigh bannerman will go with him, and I'm certain Boros the Bald will do it as well."

All three in the joust… perfect. A wide, wolfish grin stretched out over Lyanna's face. "Howland, you'll need to find me a set of cheap armor. Dacey, find me a plain palfrey."

Listening to her plan, even the she-bear was incredulous. "Really, Lya? You're basically a princess at this point and you're going to draw all that attention to yourself?" The King was known to be quite mercurial - it was quite possible that this would set him off.

"I haven't been introduced to the realm yet, so only an observant northerner would recognize me on sight." Neither was able to dissuade her. "If I am to be confined to the Red Keep, then let the she-wolf have one last blaze of glory." Oh, it would be good.

A/N: And just like that, Robert lost the Starks. Given that Brandon went screaming to King's Landing and demanding Rhaegar come out and die, his reaction her is legit.

With Aerys, all roads for him lead back to Duncan, the Prince of Dragonflies. I couldn't resist putting the thing about him being a dancer. He had to have a personality before the madness :D

Yep, the rumors are true of Connington. Will only complicate matters between him and Rhaegar later. We'll see more of him when they return to King's Landing (I plan to have in depth characterizations, just spaced out along the line of the story).

Lyanna is a dirty dirty girl, taking care of herself only minutes before planning the Knight of the Laughing tree.

Ned goes to confront Rhaegar, but meets someone interesting along the way ;)