The clash of the cup against the wall should have startled her but it did not. She had half expected it. To be honest with herself, she had expected worse. It was not as if she had welcomed the news any differently when Ned had told her, the one difference being that she and her brother had been taking a walk about the gardens and there had been many eyes there who could have seen her reaction had she lashed out.

"My love," she muttered, reaching out for him.

Oberyn took her hand in his and lifted it to kiss her knuckles.

"I am sorry."

Lyanna shook her head.

"Don't be."

She was so tired—of all of it.

"You shouldn't have to be the one to do this," Oberyn pressed. Then, leaned and pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her close.

There was no sight of fear in him, no sight of trembling, and yet Lyanna could read his unease easily. She knew it was not only rage making him lose his temper.

"What other choice do we have?" she asked, knowing there was no possible answer, and closed her eyes as she breathed him in.

"I am so tired of impossible answers," Oberyn breathed against her hair.

Lyanna let herself be held, partly because of how good it felt to have someone carry the weight she could not bear, and partly because she feared her husband might yet act on his rage. As she wished he could do. If she had the certainty that their family would come out unscathed, she would gladly watch Oberyn spear his way across the throne room to bring down both Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister.

"We will be right there," Oberyn promised.

"I know."

There was little time to say anything else—the both needed to get ready for the morning's court session.


The walls of the throne room had been stripped of dragons. The skulls of the once great beasts were gone, as were the black and red tapestries, replaced instead by hunting tapestries. This was not the first court session of Robert's reign—the first one had been when he had been presented with the butchery committed by Tywin Lannister—and yet the throne room was full of petitioners.

Unable to help herself, Lyanna looked around nervously. She did not dare search for her husband, her brother, or for Arthur Dayne. Even the presence of Lady Larra Blackmont at her side did not comfort her. What could any of them do against the divine power of a king, even if that king was a usurper?

Lyanna and Larra joined the women in the gallery and their looks and whispers made something awake within Lyanna. She murmured greetings as they made their way toward the front. Most of the ladies she did not know, even though she recognised Cersei Lannister's cousins, who had attended her the morning of her wedding. It did not matter, they all knew her—or knew of her, at least. Lyanna claimed their startled looks and sudden silence at her greetings and smiles as her first victory of the day, and hoped it was not the last.

When she let her eyes wonder over the assembled petitioners—lords and knights and every other man in the room—she found no one returned her look. They all stared, that was clear, but the moment her grey eyes found them they would look elsewhere, as if she were not there. As if she were a ghost, dead before her time. Lyanna might have agreed with them, if not for Jon. It was the memory of her son's serene face as he slept on his crib that reminded her she still lived, and why.

When the king was announced, Lyanna felt her head might have snapped by how fast she turned to look at the doors. For a moment, she feared the Mad King might walk through them.

"All hail His Grace, Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."

Next to her, Lyanna felt Larra seething and reached to take her hand. If the lady asked she would say she needed to steel herself; in truth, she feared Larra might throw herself at the king and his council as they entered.

Ser Barristan Selmy, the new commander of the Kingsguard, led the king in. Ser Jaime Lannister walked beside Lord Jon Arryn. Two more White Swords followed behind them. The king's new father-in-law was nowhere to be found in spite of his position at the king's council, and that was all confirmation Lyanna needed that the king and his council knew of the petition she would be making today. Robert took the steps of the Iron Throne as if he were in a rush, and when he sat at the top he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. He cut an impressive figure; Lyanna would admit that, dressed in plush black velvets slashed with gold, a stolen golden crown crusted with blood rubies and dark diamonds atop his dark hair. She could understand why half the ladies in the gallery seemed to swoon after him. She could not agree with them but, for the sake of her family, she would do her best to make Robert believe the fantasy that he still seemed to cling to: that she had once loved him, and she might still.

Robert made a gesture with his hand and Grand Master Pycelle, who had once served the Mad King Aerys, pushed himself to his feet. He wore richer clothing than when Lyanna had seen him last, thanks to Lord Tywin Lannister, she guessed. He drew a parchment, unrolled it, and started listing the king's commands and boons. It was a long list, most of it dealing with previous petitions, offering King Robert's resolutions. Pycelle spoke the words and claimed it as Robert's, but Lyanna wondered if there was a man in the room that did not know they belonged to Jon Arryn.

When the Maester folded the parchment and sat back down, Lyanna let go of Lady Larra's hand, which she had been holding onto.

The herald's voice seemed to fill the space. "If any man in this hall has other matters to set before His Grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence."

Lyanna steeled herself. Don't, a voice said inside her, not here. And yet, she took a step. Then another. She did not dare let her eyes wonder to look for Oberyn or Ned. She needed to do this alone.

"Your Grace," she called out, her voice stronger than she felt.

Seated high on the Iron Throne, Robert saw her, and sifted in his seat before gesturing her forward. "Approach, my lady."

She did, at a tortuous pace that she knew would be considered respectful, but was only due to the fact that her body was still weaker than she wished.

"Princess Lyanna Martell, of House Stark," the herald announced.

No one had ever called her that, Lyanna realised, even though it should be her proper title since she married Oberyn, she was only even Lyanna Stark. And she knew Robert would not like it.

Lyanna stopped under the throne. This is where Father burned, she realised, and suddenly her heart thundered and she felt like she might choke in smoke. She heard Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, asking her if she had business for the king and council but felt as if his voice was nothing but distant wind. If she looked up…it would be the Mad King looking down at her.

The sound of armour brought her back to herself and she did look up.

"I do," she declared, and knelt on the floor, grimacing at the needles of pain that shot up her back. Kneeling, she chanced a quick sideway look at Jaime, angry at how thankful she felt, and hoped no one had noticed what he had so clearly seen. That she had been a moment away from losing her mind again. "As it please Your Grace, I ask mercy for my sister, Princess Elia Martell, who was wife to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and I beg Your Grace to allow her to be brought home to Dorne, so that she might rest with her uncle, Ser Lewyn Martell, once a knight of the Kingsguard."

Upon the Iron Throne, Robert pursed his lips, closed his hands into fits. Lyanna knew why. It was because Ned had begged him for the same thing before, and for days and weeks, they had fought over it. The king and his council had agreed to return the remains of Prince Lewyn Martell to Sunspear once every man on the Trident was accounted for and the Silent Sisters had tended to him, but they had refused to return Elia. A Targaryen princess should be laid to rest in the Sept of Baelor with the rest of the Targaryen line. It had been Ned doing the asking because Oberyn had been refused audience with the king enough times that no one let him near the king's solar anymore. Eventually, Ned's words had gone unheard. And so, Lyanna had been forced to step in.

It was one thing for Robert to dismiss her husband and her brother in private; it was another for King Robert to pay no heed to the mournful begging of a lady, and one he had claimed to go to war for, at that.

"The council already put this matter to rest," Grand Maester Pycelle reminded her, with a tone that suggested he believe he was addressing an unruly child.

Lyanna fixed her stare on his, steel in her eyes. I remember you, she wanted to tell him, I know what you've done. Pycelle looked away, at some point over her head.

"Let her speak," Robert commanded. His eyes were not angry when he placed them on her.

"Your Grace is ever kind." She offered him a small smile, halfway between shy and sad. It would be better if he believed she meant it. "I am aware of the council's ruling, and yet, I beg of you, Your Grace, reconsider. Princess Elia was wife to a Targaryen prince, that much is true, but she was dornish in truth. Her children, the heirs to the throne…I understand that they must rest with their father and all of their forefathers," she say the way the words settled on Robert, how the mention of the children shamed him, "but my sister should not bear the blame of her husband's shame." The tears gathering in her eyes were not pretend, but she would not give them—this throne had seen enough of them already. "I know I am only a woman, and that I do not understand the ways of court or politics but…I beg of you, Your Grace, my sister suffered enough for a house that was not her own. Please, let her be home with those of us who love her."

Silence filled the room. Had all the lords and ladies lost their breath? Lyanna wished they would not find it again.

And then Robert rose from the Iron Throne, and for a moment Lyanna feared he might walk down to her, but he merely stood there, looking the room over.

"Lady Lyanna's words might go against a previous council ruling, but they are spoken by the kind, soft heart of a woman." Then, he looked down at her. "It is true that wives must lay with their husbands, even in death, but as I would not blame you, my lady, for any of your husband's wrongdoings, I shall not blame the Princess Elia for the traitorous actions of House Targaryen against the kingdom." He nodded at her, as if that could stop the chill from his words from settling in her bones. "It is my ruling now that the remains of Princess Elia Martell be sent home along with her uncle's."

"I thank Your Grace for his mercy," Lyanna managed to say before she was dismissed.

Standing again hurt more than kneeling had, but she managed it because she had no other choice. She walked back to Larra's side as if she were in a dream, barely aware of her own steps or the people around her or the voices that grew as the court session was dissolved.

Larra urged her outside and Lyanna finally allowed herself to let her eyes wander, searching, but Oberyn was nowhere to be found. An arm encircled her from her other side when they crossed into the hall, and Lyanna leaned on him, letting herself be held.

"My husband?" she asked.

Arthur nodded down at her. "The Hand stopped both him and Eddard for a word."

"We need to leave."

They moved away from the crowd of courtiers, back to the tower of the Hand.

"You will be in your chambers, soon. I am sure Jon will have missed you."

The words did not reassure her as he intended. "No. King's Landing. We need to leave the city. Now. As soon as Oberyn gets back we must make ready." Her hand was fisted on his tunic. "You heard Robert as well as I did."

It had not been lost to her, how Robert had spoken of her marriage, and while she had always known he was against it, and even now that he was married himself, she was terrified of what he was do. He was king now, and kings took what they pleased. There would be no one to stop him from ripping Oberyn away form her, if he wished, and Lyanna would not be trapped again.

Arthur's hold on her tightened ever so little, and his eyes were fierce. "You are safe."

Against all reason, Lyanna believed him.