A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay. Holidays and all that. But here we are at the big clash between Robert and Rhaegar. Lots of stuff happening this chapter!
Be sure to check out my Jonerys one shot, Something About Dragonstone :D
Enjoy and please comment :D
Chapter 12: Dragon v. Stag
"So, how was it?"
Creamy lids fluttering open, Lyanna's eyes flickered to Dacey's behind her through the looking glass. Normally she'd be squirming and cursing through the daily setting of her hairstyle - rendered more important due to the betrothal - but the future Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms was rather quiet this time. "How was what?" she asked back, innocently.
Dacey chuckled. "You know very well what I'm referring to." Twisting Lyanna's chestnut hair into a simple crown of braids - symbolism not lost on either - the She-Bear leaned in. "How was Rhaegar? The look on your face says everything."
Blushing faintly, instead of embarrassment Lyanna could only feel a warm contentment flow through her. "It was the best," she basically swooned. Her rather girlish attitude whenever she thought of Rhaegar, seeming better suited to a story about Florian and Jonquil, didn't bother her anymore. Rhaegar was completely worth it. My beautiful Prince Daemon.
A grin spread on the lady in waiting's face. "That good, huh? Had to be if it got you blushing like that." She puffed up the hair, arranging it in a perfect halo for Lyanna's angelic face. "Think a Prince or Princess is already on the way?"
This time, the blush was rather intense. "What? No." Lyanna wanted to shake her head, but didn't want to disrupt Dacey's masterpiece with her hair. It wasn't fancy, but a faint application of powder to the cheeks joined with the simple hairstyle meant to ground her wild northern beauty served to find the perfect balance between elegance and exotic. "I am still a maiden. He understood when I told him that would wait till the waiting night."
"Respectful… he's a keeper, though I guarantee you there was a dragon hidden inside him waiting to be unleashed." Both young women grinned at each other. "So, what did he do that got you blushing like a swooning maiden?"
"Something with his… tongue." Far from embarrassed now, she smirked lasciviously, transformed into a seductress.
"The Lord's Kiss? Ah, I've had that before, but no one could get me to the swooning stage." Mormont women were wild bears, but very picky with their men. Dacey seemed carry in that tradition, only having eyes for the Sword of the Morning himself.
Her blush returned, a dreamy look forming on her face. "It was absolutely amazing. So kind… so passionate… the perfect balance." This had to be a dream. There was no way such delirious happiness was possible. "I'm falling in love with him, Dacey. Gods help me for going so quickly, but I don't care. He's perfect."
"I wouldn't be ashamed of that." Wrapping her arms around Lyanna's shoulders, Dacey smiled at her through the mirror. "The Prince is a genuine person. No man not pure of heart would have accepted you wishing to remain a maiden with such grace and acceptance - plus you have the same intuition as the wolf you are. Good instincts, and found yourself a keeper." She pressed an affectionate kiss on the crown of her head. "There's stuff to be careful about, but your growing love for the Crown Prince isn't one of them."
Tilting her head, glancing at Dacey, Lyanna gave a large smile. "Thank you." The worries were always there, but it heartened her that Dacey, Ned, her father, and the so many others that loved her were in her corner.
There was a gentle silence between the two. "So… did he say dirty words in Valyrian while licking you?" Her lady in waiting grinned.
Lyanna pulled back to glare at her. "Shut it."
"I'll take that as a yes." Dacey grinned even wider.
"Get out!" Lyanna ordered, a good-natured smile forming on her face. Laughing herself, Dacey bowed and complied, eager to get a good spot at the Tourney grounds - likely hoping to get a good glance at the Sword of the Morning. She was obvious that way.
Rising from her chair, a gentle breeze wafting through the tent, Lyanna admired herself in the mirror. If it weren't for dacey her hair would have practically been a birds nest of wild strands every which way instead of the waterfall of silky locks that fell to her waist, though she doubted Rhaegar would mind. Rhaegar… She hated the doe-eyed, dreamy stares her friends would give the men of the household guards, but here she was doing the same thing to her Dragon Prince. And she wasn't ashamed - he deserved her affections and her love. Looking the image over in the looking glass, it was like Lyanna had transformed herself. Beautiful hairstyle, a finely powdered face, literally the only fine dress she owned in a fine northern style. Glittering sky blue and accentuating her curves, Lyanna knew Rhaegar would be burning with desire while on his horse at the joust.
Just thinking of her beloved, she twirled around, laughing. Gliding around the room with a carefree smile, singing softly in her joy. There would be problems coming forward - dealing with the Princess Elia and a crash course at adapting to court life, but it didn't matter at this moment. She had her Dragon Prince, a man that loved and respected her. One that cherished all of her quirks and accepted her for who she was. I think he'd even spar with me if I asked him to. The thought made her giggle with glee. Nothing could ruin her mood at this point.
"My Lady Lyanna?"
Turns out, the thought had been far too soon. Halting, Lyanna's eyes found the fully armored form of a young highborn waiting by the entrance to the tent. Had it been Rhaegar paying a visit prior to the jousts, she would have ran into his arms and kissed him so passionately they would have toppled over from lack of air. But it wasn't the Valyrian armor of a Targaryen Prince, but the heavy plate of a Stormlands Lord. Her smile fell immediately as her posture grew guarded. "Lord Baratheon."
Confident smile on his face, Robert was in the best of moods. Armor freshly shined, lances sharpened, and horses fully trained in several practice runs, there was no doubt in his mind that the victory in the final joust would be his. A bath with three of Chataya's best girls and the finest gambeson and breeches imported from Tyrosh to go with his suit of armor, all that was left was to find the woman he would be calling his wife by the end of it all. "Oh my dear, you need not be so formal with me." Before Lyanna could respond, he snatched her hand and kissed the knuckles. "You look beautiful in that dress." Upon walking in - confident Ned or Brandon would allow him in if asked - her carefree dancing was just too alluring that he couldn't stop himself from admiring the view.
For once, he didn't smell like wine. That didn't stop Lyanna from wrinkling her nose in disgust. While there was no appetite left in her for a confrontation that would likely get ugly, she nevertheless couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. "What do you want, Lord Baratheon?" she asked, trying to be polite. Crossing her arms and hoping to just wait him out before her brothers or father came to get her.
He bowed, looking like the epitome of a chivalrous knight in the light of the seven. "I am about to compete for the grand prize today. Would you be so kind as to allow me to wear your favor?"
Lyanna's delicate eyebrow rose. He's japing me, right? As if she'd ever let him wear her favor after what an ass he was... "I'm sorry my Lord," she said in a calmer voice than he deserved. "If I'm to give my favor to anyone it will be to my betrothed."
Blinking, the Stormlands lord paramount looked confused. "I am your betrothed. Your father accepted your brother's offer, and he knows how devoted I am to you."
He honestly believes this. "We are not betrothed, Robert. It was only an offer, one that was never finalized." Lyanna leaned against a table in the tent, eyes narrowing. "My true betrothed is Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, ordered by the King and accepted by my father, the new Master of Laws and member of the small council."
Robert rolled his eyes. "More about that again." Waving his hand dismissively, Robert stepped closer to the young she-wolf. "I happen to know my uncle, the King. His sister was my grandmother, and I was fostered in the Red Keep for a year as a young child, so I get how he thinks. This is nothing but a power play to piss off Tywin Lannister, the betrothal isn't real."
At this point beyond caring, Lyanna scoffed. Seven hells - can't this man take a hint? "I assure you, the betrothal is quite real, Lord Baratheon." The last was almost spat out, Lyanna's ire rising.
In all honesty, he didn't understand why she was upset. "There's no chance it can be. Our betrothal was real, in the sight of the Seven. Even the King cannot undo such or else piss off the Faith, and they already fuckin' hate House Targaryen."
"I told you already that our betrothal, however far it went, was never formalized." It struck Lyanna as darkly ironic that he thought himself as such a fine lord, yet she as a wild northerner was the more educated of the two. "Queen Rhaella renewed the Pact of Ice and Fire with my father and eldest brother after the King's decree. It was finalized earlier in the week, with my father appointed Master of Laws, food and Myrish glass being sent to the North for winter, and my brother being sworn as a Kingsguard."
"Ned as a Kingsguard? Impossible," Robert chortled.
Lyanna fought a laugh herself. He doesn't even know who Benjen is… I doubt he remembers Ned telling him, or cares one way or another. "All this time you call yourself his friend and say you're in love with me…"
He peered at her with confused eyes. "But I do love you, my sweet Lyanna…"
Moving to touch her, Lyanna batted his hands away. "Do not touch me, Robert," she snapped, anger at the surface. "You claim to love me without even knowing me or my family. The Pact is sealed. To break it off would bring myself the greatest dishonor." I would have fled with Rhaegar anyway, had father been so stupid as to betroth me to Robert. Her loathing of this man and affection for the Prince so strong already, she refused to be ashamed for such a thought, however mad it was.
Fists clenching, Robert nonetheless showed an incredible restraint. "While I commend your Lord Father for making a good deal for your hand, it disgusts me that you would be sold as some broodmare mistress for a dragonspawn."
Lyanna's cheeks started to flush red, this time with anger. "I will not be a mistress Lord Baratheon." While childish fantasies were childish fantasies, she bore the luck and providence to see hers become a near reality. "I'll become the second wife and warrior Queen of the future King of Westeros, Visenya to his Aegon. He is the heir of our ruler and my betrothed in the sight of both the old gods and the new so I suggest you speak of him with respect."
"He's practically a rapist and I will not let him steal what's mine." Robert stepped forward again, their faces only a foot apart.
The Lord of Storm's End towered over her with his bulk but Lyanna refused to be intimidated. Seeing red and gritted teeth. "What's yours?" If he wouldn't understand, she'd have to hammer it into his idiot brain. Lyanna finally realized that this conflict was inevitable, but this time neither Ned nor Brandon could be the one to finish it.
Her anger… she was scared of Rhaegar, Robert was sure of it. I cannot let him abuse her this way. Lyanna would be his to wed and protect, and if it meant challenging the Crown then Robert was willing to do so. He was a Baratheon, and they were the fury. "Before the King got involved, you were to be my bride. I won't let the dragonspawn get his claws on you."
Enough is enough. "I will become the Prince's wife, Lord Baratheon," she ground out through gritted teeth, voice low. "I am very happy with the prospect so I very well suggest you find another woman because this one will become Queen."
Suddenly his blue eyes grew dark, a dazzling ocean blue almost black with… lust. "I want no other wife but you," he husked. At that moment, before Lyanna could even respond, Robert pulled her to him and kissed her. Thick hands encased in armor wrapping around her waist, trapping her there. His tongue stabbed into her like a mace through bone, even more forcefully than the first time. Then, he merely was overcome by desire. Here, beginning to shove her towards the bed, he was claiming her as his. Absolutely confident that she wanted him to.
Inside, Lyanna was screaming. This was no proper kiss or lover's embrace, not at all like Rhaegar's gentle but fiery touches and caresses. After knowing what a real kiss of love and respect felt like, Lyanna felt even more disgusted at this. Disgusted and… terrified. Knowing where he was going - aiming for her very maidenhead. No! I will not lose it to this disgusting oaf! Unable to push off his bulky frame, she blindly reached for the first thing she could and swung.
The precious book crashed against Robert's cheek. Leaving nothing but a small cut and bruise but causing him to grunt in pain. The shock of which enough to force him off, Lord of Storm's End stumbling back. Looking upon Lyanna with wide, unbelieving eyes. "My sweet…"
"I. Am. Not. Your. Sweet," she hissed, breathing deeply as she shook with rage. "Do not touch me again, or else it will be a dagger I use on you."
At that moment, the guards raced in. Two young members of the Household Guard, illiterate and their first time outside of the ancestral lands of House Stark around Winterfell. They surveyed the scene with confusion and worry, clutching the hilt of their sheathed swords. "What's going on?" Eyes shifting between Lord Baratheon and Lyanna. "My Lady, are you alright?"
Glaring at Robert… the fatigue and tiredness started to wash over her. "I'm fine, Torrhen. Lord Baratheon was just leaving." Lyanna just wanted him gone.
Robert soothed his pained cheek with his hand, the two staring at each other with nary a word. Suddenly, his blue eyes turned a very dark shade - different from before. Something she had never seen in him in their encounters. Angry, but a deep anger. One melded from pure hate. "I'll have you Lyanna, even if it's the last damned thing i do." He grabbed his cape from the coathanger and threw it over his shoulder. "I swear before all the gods that the Dragonspawn will give you to me, or my warhammer will taste his rapist blood." With that, he left. Tent flap swooshing behind him.
Trembling, Lyanna collapsed in the nearest seat. Clutching the book around her waist just like his last visit, only now she was fighting tears rather than mere shock. Strength seeping out of her as the weight of what happened came crashing down. The guards were by her side. "Would you like some wine, my Lady?"
Lyanna shook her head. "No, I'll be fine," she croaked.
"Shall we inform Lord Stark of this?"
"Don't bother him. I'll let him know. Go back to your posts." They nodded and left. Inhaling deeply, Lyanna willed herself to be calm. She wasn't a defenseless maiden, but a wolf of Winterfell. The soon to be Princess to the Dragon Prince. She would be strong. How in the Seven Hells will I get this oaf out of my ass? Perhaps speaking to Ned… or Rhaegar... No, that wasn't an option. He's still the Lord of Storm's End. Thinking like a true Princess, political considerations first.
At that moment, the guards called in from outside. "Lady Stark, make way for her Grace, the Queen Rhaella."
Eyes widening, Lyanna quickly stood and set her book gingerly on the table. Smoothing out the creases in her dress, she fell to her knees just as Rhaella breezed through the tent flaps, Kingsguard right behind her. "My Queen."
The Queen let out a small laugh, one comparable to the sweetest song of birds. "Rise Lady Lyanna," she said softly, reaching down in a most familiar way to help her future gooddaughter up. "We will soon be family after all... and do please call me Rhaella."
Rising back to her feet, Lyanna studied the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms - the only time she'd ever seen her was at the feasts, and at that time Rhaella had always been at the head table beside the King. out of range of her detailed vision. Rhaella was the epitome of what the wife of a Valyrian dragonlord should be, silver hair styled in complex braids down the back of her sparkling red dress that displayed just a hint of the porcelain skin beneath. There was an almost ethereal beauty about her, vibrant violet eyes sparkling with compassion. Yet there was a hidden steel set in them. Like Rhaegar's, but softer. Smiling, Lyanna knew she would come to love the Queen. "Forgive me for being rather flustered, Rhaella." She would have to get used to being around the dragons, both as her goodkin but also as her children… even for a direwolf it was quite dazzling. "And call me Lyanna as well."
She was graced again by the queens melodious laughter. "It's alright dear. After all, this whole matter was practically thrust upon you." Noticing Lyanna's eyes flicker to the man behind her, Rhaella motioned to Ser Jaime. "This is Ser Jaime Lannister, my Kingsguard."
Handsome, golden features completely distinguishable, Lyanna would know the Lion of Lannister anywhere. "Ser Jaime."
Jaime bowed. "My Lady… it is an honor to meet the woman that has brought Prince Rhaegar so much joy."
"Well, the Prince has only brought me such joy as well. I would be worried if he did not reciprocate." Lyanna turned back to her goodmother. "Shall we head for the tourney grounds? I'd hate to miss the Prince's first tilt."
Unable not to beam at the northern beauty, Rhaella clasped her arm affectionately. "You really do care for my son, don't you?"
"I do." Just thinking about him warmed her heart as they began to leave the tent. "You must have dealt with many maidens and their fathers seeking betrothals before settling on Princess Elia, but truth be told I didn't know that he was the Crown Prince when I first heard him sing."
"You heard him?" Rhaegar was always careful after his father broke the first harp Aunt Jenny gave him. "He has a beautiful voice, gets it from my mother, Queen Betha." Rhaella's eyes sparkled thinking of her late mother. "I do wish he would enjoy himself more, not be so pained all the time," she said with regret.
The she-wolf furrowed his brows. "Pained?" Imagining Rhaegar in pain filled her with an indescribable sadness, biting her lip.
It was Ser Jaime that answered, falling behind them as they strolled through the camp. "The King rarely takes small council meetings after Duskendale. Rhaegar has taken most of the slack and it's… he's naturally brooding but with the weight of it all it gets worse for him." He looked at Rhaella. "Her Grace as well."
"I'm fine, Ser Jaime." The Queen grinned at Lyanna. "The Lion of Lannister likes to cluck over me, very devoted to his oaths. Reminds me so much of his mother, while Cersei took more after Lord Tywin."
"Lord Tywin is a very successful Lord. Perhaps that isn't a bad comparison to make?" Looking back to the Kingsguard, Lyanna thought she was seeing things. A sparkle in the eye. A worried look for the Queen more akin to how Rhaegar looked at her or her father to her mother than guard to charge. Utter adoration and dare she say... love? "Your oaths are to follow her Grace?"
"Morning, noon, and night, until dismissed of course." Jaime grinned. "The price to pay for the prestigious post, but I'm happy to do it. Only the best to protect the royal family, especially her Grace." There is that smile again.
From the rather serene expression on her goodmother's face, seemed to Lyanna that Rhaella had no clue - she decided not to say anything. "I guess I'll have to get used to Kingsguards following me," Lyanna ended up saying with a smirk of her own.
Rhaella nodded. "They are sworn to protect the king and his family, my dear, but don't worry. While the history is spotty, Lord Commander Gerold runs a tight ship. The knights are honorable, patient, and understanding. Especially Ser Jaime - I don't know what I would do without him."
The aforementioned knight visibly puffed up like an airskin used to ford across rivers inflating, as if that simple comment was what sustained him. Love is in the air, I suppose. "We will have to find a guard for you, Lady Lyanna."
Robert's tongue invading her mouth flashed in her mind, Lyanna suppressing a shiver. "Yes, that would be best. I won't be under the protection of House Stark after the wedding, and I should probably be seen as a member of the royal family."
Glancing at her with an appreciative look, Rhaella chuckled. "You are learning, my dear gooddaughter." Around them, onlookers were falling to their knees as the Queen and future Queen passed by. Lyanna was taking it in stride, not arrogant yet not too colloquial. "You'll be an intelligent Queen when the time comes." Suddenly, the Queen spotted just the choice. "Ser Barristan!"
Walking towards the grounds, simply enjoying and not participating after being dethroned for the top spot at last year's tourney by the Prince, Ser Barristan's attention was caught by the Queen. He jogged over, bowing. "You summoned me, your Grace?"
"Ah, Lyanna. This is the distinguished Barristan the Bold. It is my directive that he be your guard… at least until your brother arrives from Winterfell. I assume you'll want him as your guard?"
A smile formed on Lyanna's face. If anyone deserved a position on the kingsguard it was Benjen. He'll be ecstatic at this opportunity. Benjen always wanted to be a knight like Aemon Targaryen or Duncan the Tall. But her mind drifted back to the here and now - another legend standing in front of her. "Ser Barristan, your reputation precedes you." She curtsied. "I'd be honored to be your charge."
This one… Barristan took an immediate liking to Lyanna Stark. While most highborns looked down on their guards - especially kings and royals - the future Queen curtseyed to him. He bowed deeply. "The honor is mine, Princess."
Falling behind her beside Jaime without issue, the conversation continued with Ser Barristan now present. "I think I would also like to know the famous Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur."
"Oh?"
Both kingsguards laughed. "We all adore your betrothed, Lady Lyanna, but Ser Arthur. He and the Prince are the closest of friends. Dunk and Egg returned." Barristan explained after Lyanna furrowed his brows. "Ser Duncan the Tall and King Aegon V. They were inseparable - Rhaegar and Arthur are like that. Elia also grew up with the Dayne siblings, s you'll see a lot of him."
"That is good, and I do think my Lady in waiting is smitten with him."
Jaime snorted. "I would pay a million golden dragons to see the she-bear make Ser Stuffy break his vows of celibacy." Barristan rolled his eyes while both ladies laughed.
Finally back in a good mood as they approached the tourney grounds, her mind was already turning in matchmaking plots. "Ser Stuffy. I'll have to tell her that."
"Ignore my youthful brother in arms, my Lady," Barristan offered, though the knight's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I shouldn't be saying this, but Ser Arthur is partial to silk dresses and ponytail hairstyles."
"I'll keep that in mind for Lady Mormont, Ser Barristan."
Worries about being accepted into House Targaryen were apparently all for naught.
It was the final day of the King's Tourney, held months early in the twilight of winter to celebrate the two and twentieth nameday of the Crown Prince. A glorious event, filled with free food and drink for all visitors "by the goodness of his Grace, Aerys Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms." Over ten thousand smallfolk from as far as Lannisport and Gulltown had arrived, most of them gathered in the hastily built stands surrounding the jousting grounds to watch what was gearing up to be one of the best competitions of the century. Rumors of the Knight of the Laughing Tree vanishing into thin air and the betrothal announcement only added to the mystery of the event, helmed by the coming defense of the Crown Prince's title against the Lord of Storm's End.
Upon the arrival of the Targaryen Queen and the future Princess Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, the already loud masses grew thunderous with applause for the two of them. Beautiful women the envy of all present, they received the boundless love of the smallfolk.
Lyanna, to her credit, handled it all with a regal sense of aplomb and decorum. Waving to the smallfolk with a wide smile - drawing further adoration. Entering the royal box to the rising high Lords and Ladies, Rhaella motioning for Lyanna to sit right next to her. A huge message concerning her placement as a member of House Targaryen. "You're family, Lyanna," Rhaella told her with a smile.
The she-wolf beamed. "This is my first tourney. Are they always like this?"
Jaime shook his head. "No, most are only for highborns. The King's Tourney is one of a kind." He smirked. "Good choice for your first, too. You'll get to see the Crown Prince kick ass today." All the Kingsguards were completely loyal to their Dragon Prince - as was Lyanna.
And his mother. "He's the favorite to go to the final tilt," commented Rhaella. "Him and Lord Baratheon." She noticed Lyanna's face darkening. "Is everything alright dear?" the Queen gently asked her future gooddaughter.
Lyanna put on a fake smile, not wishing to ruin the day with her problems. "I'm fine."
Rhaella shared a quizzical look with Jaime and Ser Barristan. "My Lady," the older knight said with concern. "I believe something is truly bothering you. Ser Jaime, her Grace, and I can keep a secret."
Sighing, Lyanna lowered her voice. "Robert Baratheon…" She closed her eyes, the memory of what had happened rushing back. Making her just feel dirty. "Before you arrived... he tried to force himself on me." An unbidden feeling, of betraying Rhaegar by not ending the conversation earlier or fighting him off quicker… it caused a tear to fall down her cheek.
As for her companions - Rhaella gasped softly while both Jaime and Barristan narrowed their eyes. "How far did he go?" Jaime asked with a tone that was frighteningly similar to Brandon's. Robert's… escapades, were known in court, and while it was shocking that he did do this, it didn't truly surprise them - the fact that he did it to the Crown Princess to be was.
"Just a kiss... he did it before, when we first met. It wasn't rape…" Their conversation was hushed, none of the other lords catching it over the roar of the crowd. "More like he expected me to let him."
Jaime was furious, running a hand through his coffered hair to calm himself. he very much believed that women deserved to be treated with respect. Glancing over at the Queen, she silently blazed with fury. "I wont say im surprised. The oaf already has a bastard in the eyrie, and gods knows how many more."
"He won't harm you again, Lyanna," Rhaella said firmly, taking her hand. "Not while you're in our protection. Ser Barristan?"
The old knight only nodded. "No one gets near Lady Lyanna without me being there."
"Good." Gingerly, Rhaella hugged Lyanna close. The daughter of the North reciprocating, unable to resist the motherly hug denied her since her own mother's demise. What was it about the Targaryens that she couldn't help but love them?
Little do they know that Ned heard every word as he was coming up to the royal box several paces ahead of his brother and father… Mouth going dry, hands trembling with both anger and self-loathing at the story Lyanna had told the Queen. Barely able to speak, he forced himself to not say anything, yet. "My Queen," he said, bowing.
All four turn to see the spare stark heir. "Greetings Lord Stark."
Ned smiles and then hugged his sister close. "Love you, Lya," he murmured, voice hoarse with emotion.
Unsure of where that came from, Lyanna nevertheless reciprocated. "Love you too, Ned." Wordlessly, Ned took his seat while Brandon crushed Lyanna in a tight embrace, joined by Cat and their father. Only the sight of the beautiful Lady Cersei could knock him out of the puddle of malaise he had stepped in.
Finally, the King arrived. Surrounded by guards and followed by the bounding Prince Viserys, on cloud nine for being so close to his father, Aerys took his seat with nary a word. Ser Oswell moving to the King's side, whispering in his ear, Aerys nodded and waved him off. Glaring at the herald. Scrambling to gather his bugler, the man cleared his voice. "Presenting! His Grace the Crown Prince and Lord of Dragonstone, reigning champion of the King's Tourney! Rhaegar of House Targaryen!"
A roar undulated through the crowd as Rhaegar galloped onto the field atop his black thoroughbred war stallion Moondancer, clad in full plate armor of a high knight but free of a helm. Silver hair blowing in the wind. Moondancer suddenly rearing, the Prince held his mount expertly, holding tight and waving to the crowd - which they absolutely loved based on the unadulterated screaming that drowned out all other sounds. Lords and knights were largely a mixed bag, but the thousands of smallfolk that gathered were firmly in adoration of the Dragon Prince.
As was Lyanna, her gaze never leaving the magnificent figure of her betrothed. While not the Valyrian armor he had worn the night before - that she had greatly enjoyed undressing him out of - Rhaegar cut a dashing figure in anything. The plates slim and not the bulky iron houses that many knights wore, hugging his toned figure. And then there was his silver hair, silky and sparkling in the powerful sunlight. Framing his gorgeous face. Oh yes, I am a lucky woman.
"My Lady Stark." Blinking, Lyanna looked up to see Rhaegar right in front of her, that dazzling smile that turned her to jelly beaming at her. How did… He must have greeted his father and mother without her even noticing. "Would you do me the honor of offering me your favor?" Lyanna was sure a bright red blush adorned her cheeks.
Unable to not be a cheeky fuck, Brandon produced a grey ribbon. "You can wear my favor, my Prince," he said in a ridiculous falsetto. The entire royal box erupted in laughter. Jon Arryn guffawing along with the Kingsguards, Mace Tyrell chortling, Rickard and Rhaella laughing merrily, Ned chuckling softly, and even Cersei Lannister unable to stop a giggle.
Only the King himself watching with a blank stare… and Lyanna didn't laugh, glaring at her brother. Smacking him about the head. "Shut up." The crowd loved it. Turning back to Rhaegar - who was laughing himself atop his horse, she took out a small strip of blue silk and gave it to him. "Keep safe, my Prince."
"With the favor of the She-Wolf of Winterfell," Rhaegar announced loudly, though the affection in his violet eyes was only for her. "The gods themselves couldn't strike me down." Lyanna fought from swooning while he tied the silk to his wrist, the King beside her audibly groaning and rolling his eyes. No sentimentality from him. Rhaella, however, was all smiles, hugging her once Rhaegar was trotting off to the field.
Overcoming the surreal feeling of being the archetypal maiden in the long ago epics, Lyanna leaned over to her brothers. "Who's he fighting first."
"Yohn Royce of the Vale," Brandon replied. "It'll be a good tilt, but a short one."
Ned agreed. "I know Lord Royce. He's good, but no match for the Prince." Her brother's observations were spot on. Royce was a proud and noble figure atop his mare, skilled but not sneaky in any way. The first tilt was a draw, both riders striking a glancing blow on the other's shield. The second tilt was shorter, Rhaegar's lance shattering on Royce's breastplate and sending the Lord of Runestone toppling. Dismounting, Rhaegar helped Royce up, earning cheers from the crowd.
Next joust proclaimed, frowns adorned the faces of the Starks - Ned especially, anger boiling deep within his gut thanks to what he had overheard prior to the start - as Robert Baratheon rode onto the jousting grounds. Giant brown Volantine stallion huffing and pawing at the ground in a restless energy. "He's facing Ser Addam Marbrand," Lyanna murmured..
"Ser Addam is good," Catelyn chimed in, holding Brandon's hand affectionately. "Always wins."
"Hopefully he knocks that smug bastard on his ass," Brandon groaned.
"I doubt it." Four sets of eyes found Ned, the Queen unable not to listen in to the younger brood. "Robert is better." His statement proved accurate when a decisive blow to just below the neck unhorsed Ser Addam almost comically easily, Robert thundering to the end of the fence to roars from the crowd. A handsome, strong Lord - naturally he was a favorite of the smallfolk.
Removing the visor of his fancy stag helm, Robert found Lyanna and blew her a kiss. Lyanna simply wrinkled her nose and didn't give him the satisfaction to even look at him. "This is going to be a long day," Rhaella observed.
And a long day it was. Three further jousts each, and all three ended without ceremony or interest. Rhaegar defeated in quick succession Lord Roland Crakehall, Ser Garth Hightower, and lastly Ser Arthur - though the latter took two tilts to do so. Tethering on his saddle, Arthur nearly managed to hold on but eventually fell, though a quick tuck and roll had him on his feet in no time. Even Rhaegar joined the crowd in the exultant applause, though Arthur's only wave and wink was to… Dacey. Lyanna grinned as the normally tough she-bear flushed a full crimson at the attention from the famed Sword of the Morning. "Looks like Ser Stuffy is smitten," she said to Ser Jaime, causing the latter to laugh.
Her joy at Rhaegar winning was dampened as Robert kept gaining as well. Ser Jeremy Rykker collapsed with a hard blow to the center of his shield. Lord Jonos Bracken quickly followed to the displeasure of the mostly Riverman crowd. Robert faced his biggest foe in Ser Gregor Clegane of the Westerlands, sworn sword to Tywin Lannister. Three tilts and three ties, but on the fourth Robert hit him in the neck and sent the monster crashing to the ground. Everyone would have figured Gregor to erupt in anger at the preening Lord Baratheon, but a warning glare from Cersei caused him to merely stomp off.
Huffing, bored and just wanting the joust to continue so she wouldn't have to hear another one of King Aerys' japes, Cersei felt a pair of eyes staring at her. Turning, there were Eddard Stark's greys, finding her form with a twinkle she had seen many men - but not Rhaegar - give her. Unlike those men, when she looked away a tiny smile adorned her lips.
But now it was here. The final joust of the entire tourney, title of King's Champion and a pot of fifty thousand gold dragons in the balance. Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen of Dragonstone and Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End facing off. To say that Lyanna's stomach was twisted into knots would be quite understating it. "May the champions present themselves to their King," barked Ser Gerold, both of them bringing their horses in at a slow trot till they were directly in front of his Grace. "Do you pledge your loyalty and fealty to King Aerys of House Targaryen, Second of His Name?"
"I so swear my undying faith and allegiance," Rhaegar said, bowing in his saddle.
By the coincidences of life, it was Robert, not Rhaegar, that was the closest to Lyanna. Her skin crawled, both Brandon and Rhaella reaching over to clasp her hand in comfort. "I so swear my undying faith and allegiance," Robert repeated, though he wasn't done. "And to the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms shall come the Crown of Love and Beauty upon my victory." Many ladies swoon, but Lyanna knew he meant her.
Moondancer snorting, ears pulling back angrily, Rhaegar felt a steaming irritation well within him. She is not yours, cousin. Lyanna is mine! My wolf! As much his as he was hers. Angling his mount to pass right abreast of Robert's, their eyes met. "May the best man win, cousin," he ground out.
Robert sneered. "I do not intend to lose, dragonspawn."
The arrogance only drove Rhaegar's determination a hundred fold. "Neither do I." And with that both highborns spurred their horses to position. Young Garlan Tyrell, Rhaegar's squire, offered him the lance while Meryn Trant handed Robert's to him.
One could feel the electricity in the air, even Aerys. Normally he would prefer to be anywhere but there, but with the bloody helm and shield of the Knight of the Laughing Tree displayed in his quarters, his good mood was infectious. He was actually looking forward for his heir to prove the greatness of House Targaryen. "Start now in the name of your King!" he ordered.
Lances leveling, Robert bellowed and Rhaegar whistled as their horses charged into a thunderous gallop. It was over in a split second, Lyanna unable to watch until Brandon rapped her shoulder. "Glancing blows on their shields. A draw."
Normally a rookie play, these weren't inexperienced hedge knights. "They're sizing each other up," mused Rickard.
Jon Arryn whistled, leaning back. "Better get ready. This is gonna be one for the songs."
Almost before the horn sounded the second tilt, both riders were assaulting each other yet again - no love lost or reluctance to go at each other. This time, Rhaegar and Robert slammed their lances into each other's shoulders. Another draw, another probing tilt. Eyes narrowing under visors as cheers broke into hushed murmurs.
"Rhaegar!" screamed Viserys, jumping up and down to cheer his brother - only for the King to grab him by the back of his neck and force him down.
"Let him cheer his brother," Rhaella asked gently.
Aerys was not gentle. "Quiet woman," he hissed. Rhaella drew back, turning her attentions to Lyanna as both of them watched Rhaegar with worried eyes.
The third tilt proceeded with much anticipation, and it didn't disappoint. Rhaegar shattered his lance upon Robert's shield while Robert slammed his into Rhaegar's shoulder. Robert had absorbed most of the impact with his burly arms, while the Prince's torso was leaning precipitously to the side in a sort of pain, drawing screams of displeasure from the crowd and a gasp from Lyanna. But the tables soon turned, Rhaegar earning his family's smiles by shrugging off the pain and breaking another lance against Robert's shield in the fourth tilt. His weapon hadn't even glanced a blow, but quick horsemanship managed to keep Robert from falling off his stallion.
"My gods," breathed Rickard, watching as both the fifth and sixth tilts ended in draws. Neither contestant was holding back this time. Breaking three more lances and obviously inflicting deep bruises and aching cuts on the other. The crowd was simply loving it all, enterprising sneaks and entrepreneurs taking bets all over the stands.
Lyanna's heart was beating out of her chest, squeezing Rhaella's hand tightly when the sixth tilt ended, Rhaegar taking another blow, this time to the side. This was an exciting match, one for the history books since two great riders of great houses were battling each other in a test of strength and skill - the five tilts of Prince Daemon during his brother's reign were still talked about to this day… every detail - but all she could think about was her beloved Rhaegar.
The herald blew into his bugle. "Prince Rhaegar and Lord Baratheon have secured a sixth draw. Each of them shall be granted a pause to prepare for the seventh tilt."
Fingers digging into the wooden seat below her, now Lyanna was quite worried. Starting to slouch atop Moondancer, Rhaegar handed his broken lance to Garlan, his betrothed catching a grimace as he moved his shoulder. It was clear that the Prince caught some nasty hits from Robert's lance and was tiring. My Rhaegar… She wanted nothing more than to race over to him and kiss the pain away.
On the other side of the tourney grounds, Meryn Trant was handing Robert a new lance - one of sturdy oak often used in battle except for the dulled head. Sweat drenched his brow and tunic underneath the armor, bruised sides aching but determination burned in him. Eyes finding Lyanna's, the Lord of Storm's End smirked and blew a kiss.
Eyes flickering between the infuriatingly smug Robert and the aching Rhaegar, Lyanna's emotions were a swirling cauldron of rage and worry. Then, she felt the Queen's hand on hers. "He'll be alright," whispered Rhaella, a smile on her face. "There hasn't been a knight or Lord he hasn't dismounted in his life." Seeing how concerned the northern beauty was, the Queen had no doubt that her son has found a soulmate. Someone she could see as an actual daughter and a welcome addition to the family.
"Look at Robert, so fucking arrogant," grumbled Brandon, wearing his anger on his face unlike the more dour Rickard and Ned. "He really thinks he can win this?"
Rickard snorted. "Overconfidence will be his undoing, mark my words."
"My brother's gonna win!" Viserys piped up. "Fire and blood!" he shouted into the din.
The King grumbled. "He'd fuckin' better."
Biting her lip, Lyanna found Rhaegar again, the Prince taking his own oaken lance from Garlan. Settling atop Moondancer and refitting his feet into the stirrups. Finding Lyanna out of the crowd atop the royal box, he smiled. Tired and aching, but face serene from the mere glimpse of his beloved before he pulled down his visor once more. Just the one look managed to quell the tempest in Lyanna's stomach… until the horses lined up upon the field.
"Prepare for the seventh tilt!" Horses grunting and stomping their feet, both the dragon and the stag stared at each other through the visors. Sharp antlers and glinting wings atop their helms made them look more monstrous and terrifying than they were, Robert's open rage and Rhaegar's cold fire welling deep within them. They each knew that the next clash would be the last, readying their horses accordingly. Not a sound left the crowd as they watched entranced.
The bugle blared, horses charging.
All disappeared for Rhaegar. Nothing but the beauty of Lyanna urging him forward, the vibrations of Moondancer as he thundered atop the ground, and the figure of his contemptible cousin. Watching the weakened grip of the shield as the opposing lance aim for right at his neck - a devastating blow, but one Rhaegar's mind computed in a mere split second to counter…
The crowd took a sharp intake of breath as the riders closed into each other. Lyanna gasping and Rhaella clasping her hands over her mouth in horror as Robert's lance gunned for the Prince's neck… only for Rhaegar to lean inward, lance hitting his right shoulderplate hard but bouncing off. The Lord of Storm's End wasn't so lucky, weak grip on his shield allowing for Rhaegar's aim to its left side to slide directly into Robert's chestplate. Lance shattering as Robert's bracing his right failed to protect his center.
It played out in slow motion for all that watched - Rhaegar dismounting Robert from his horse on the seventh tilt.
Silence reigned for an interminable moment before Lyanna was out of her seat, whooping like a direwolf as the entire crowd roared with her. The other Starks joined her - as did Prince Viserys - while Rhaella and the other Lords rose, clapping proudly.
Coughing, body pained all over, Robert pulled off his helm. He spat onto the ground, raising off the ground with a groan. Narrowed eyes found the Crown Prince slowing his horse, tall atop the stallion while the crowd hurled their love for him into the air. Fists clenching, he shoved aside young Meryn and the other Baratheon bannermen that moved to tend to him. Cheating dragonspawn bastard!
Gently yanking the reins to the left, turning the stallion to face the royal box, Rhaegar couldn't help but bask in the worship of the massive crowd. "DRAGON PRINCE! DRAGON PRINCE! DRAGON PRINCE!" A sea of humanity, throats all bellowing their love for the Prince of Dragonstone. Pushing his visor up, spotting the flurry of activity around the moving and unhurt - besides his pride - Lord of Storm's End, Rhaegar shifted to the royal box. Finding his proud father, mother, and brother. The riveted and slightly jealous looks of his Stark goodbrothers, the admiration of Lord Rickard… and Lyanna. His winter wolf, eyes sparkling and mouth curled in a beaming smile as she was out of her seat. Clapping uproariously, face a blatant display of love and pure adoration. Unable to stop his own smile, Rhaegar waved to the crowd, drawing even louder cheers. He clicked his tongue, horse trotting forward - pulling the reins to guide him close to the box. Directly before his father.
Sunlight glittering off his armor, Lyanna's heart throbbed in her chest as Rhaegar reached just before them. Removing the helm from his head to reveal the same silver locks she loved to tumble over his shoulderplates. "Your Grace," he began. "Honored Lords and Ladies, it was a privilege to compete on this field before you today."
To Lyanna's right, the King rose from his seat, arrogant smirk planted on his lips. He had competed in many tourneys. Liked to boast he won more titles than his older brother, and now he relived such glory through his strapping son. "People of the Seven Kingdoms," he yelled loudly enough for all to hear. "I give you, your champion. Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms." A quick jerk of the hand brought a pageboy past the empty throne and a giddy Prince Viserys, in his hands a pillow bearing the crown of blue roses. "Present yourself, Prince Rhaegar."
Rhaegar bowed low atop his saddle. Moondancer steady as the perfectly trained war mount he was. "I am unworthy of this honor, your Grace." If there was anything his father enjoyed, it was getting his ass kissed.
Aerys only laughed. "You are the true champion, Prince Rhaegar." In his gaze, the twinkling violet of the man he had once been. "The Young Dragon Reborn, there is no man more deserving of the honor to be crowned champion of the King's Tourney." Taking the pillow from the pageboy, he offered it out for Rhaegar to take. Crowd waiting with baited breath for the favorite part of each and every tourney - the crowning of the Queen of Love and Beauty. A married knight presented it to his spouse, or to the Queen, or the unmarried granting the title to an unattached maiden that took their fancy.
Oh, how every female in the crowd, married or not, wished the handsome Dragon Prince would crown them - from the history of House Targaryen, even wretches like Aegon the Unworthy had no trouble finding mistresses. Many a swoon passed the lips of a maiden who the Crown Prince settled upon, only to turn to a disappointed sigh when he moved on. On the edge of the royal box, Lady Cersei suppressed a pang in her gut, still hoping for the possibility that the Crown Prince would choose her.
But there was only one woman Rhaegar could ever crown. A woman that had in the spate of a week had captured his heart completely. With the approval of his father, his mother and brother, his beloved… Rhaegar couldn't stop himself from beaming with pride. He took the crown and guided his stallion till he stood before Lyanna. His smile was infectious, a similar one finding its way to her lips as his eyes sparkled with love and affection. "Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, my betrothed and future Princess. Would you bring me the greatest honor in accepting this crown and be my Queen of Love and Beauty?"
Confident that he would crown her - hells, there was no chance he wouldn't - Lyanna still couldn't help the bright red blush that adorned her cheeks. Glancing at the Queen, who smiled and tilted her head towards her son. Looking at her father and brothers, all three of them grinning and making the same gesture. Lyanna settled a quick glare, one only gracing her eyes, at Robert's intense stare upon her. You will never have me, Robert. In that moment, she would show him just how true that was.
But upon meeting Rhaegar's gorgeous violet eyes, all other thoughts left her. Standing with the blush still adorning her cheeks, Lyanna approached the edge of the box and leaned forward. Feeling the rose petals resting against the braided crown upon her head. The crowd's roars of approval was far away in her ears, only Rhaegar mattering. Caution to the wind, she threw her arms around his neck and crashed their lips together in their most passionate kiss yet. Lips locking as Rhaegar gladly reciprocated. I am his, and he is mine. Proclaimed to the world.
Rhaella beamed, Brandon whooped, Rickard averted his eyes with a smile, as did the Kingsguards while the crowd bellowed their approval of the public display. Chuckling, Ned's eyes flickered to Cersei, the golden beauty sighing and turning away. The King was less subtle, huffing and retaking the seat upon the throne, withdrawing into himself. Far less subtle was Robert. Throwing off any attempt by his squire or servants to inspect whatever wounds he could have. A stormcloud draped over his head, throwing his helm upon the ground and storming off.
Eyes narrowing, Ned waited for the applause to die down before ducking out of the royal box. Intent on following his friend.
A/N: The quiet wolf is awakened! Ned has reached the end of his tether.
Of course Lyanna's happiness at finally being in love with her Dragon Prince was ruined by Robert. Now begins his journey from charming player into the bitter, whoring jerk we see in season 1. I hope I characterized it well, and we'll see things from his pov in later chapters.
Rhaella to the rescue. Lyanna and her goodmother's relationship is on a good start, and she has a protector now in Ser Barristan. Gotta love the old knight.
Lol, Brandon's little joke.
The tourney was one for the ages. While Robert was always gonna lose, he's as skilled as Rhaegar so it was gonna take a brutal slog to get there. But finally Lyanna gets the famous crown of winter roses! Only no need to be cautious.
Next up, Ned confronts Robert. More comments, quicker I update :D
