It was a truth well documented that fair maidens were deserving of valiant heroes to sweep them off their feet and take them to a far away kingdom. All songs spoke of it and the bards found each and every day a new example. It delighted the heart to hear their beauty and goodness rewarded in such a fashion.

Alas, there were times when the story was heavily altered and one wished to weep for the fair maiden rather than rejoice. Such was the story of one Lyanna Stark, daughter of Winterfell. At first glance, all the requirements of a song corroborated to shape her life. Young and beyond the shadow of a doubt fair of face, Lyanna had the vast kingdom of the North at her feet, three brave brothers – well, might be the last of them was more annoying than gallant – and a prospective marriage to put all other maidens to shame. There was only one issue. The would-be husband.

As she mulled over these matters of great import, Lyanna failed to maintain her grip on the carafe of water she had been holding midair and promptly dropped it as the wheelhouse gave a might shake. A distressed yelp passed her lips as water sloshed all over her gown, seeping into the light material.

The blunder was met with a great deal of laughter from her youngest brother, just in time to demonstrate gallantry. "This is why I tell you that thinking at all times about Lord Robert shall get you in trouble," Benjen Stark managed to say when he paused so as to draw breath.

Scowling, Lyanna picked up the flask and hurled its contents at her brother's head. The water splashed all over his face much to her delight, "Do you think I take pleasure in it? Would that I did not have to think about him." Alas Robert hadn't the good grace to be gallant as the knights of songs were, even though she had more than fulfilled her part.

More needling was the discovery that she would be forever stuck with a man incapable of controlling himself. It had taken sometime time but Lyanna discovered from reliable sources that Robert Baratheon would soon rival old Lord Frey's brood.

"Then do not," her brother answered in his infinite wisdom. "I swear one would think the world is at its end with the way you cry about this."

"I am not crying," the she-wolf corrected him. "But there must be a way of avoiding this atrocity." The sooner she found it, the better. Unfortunately, no0thing came to mind.

"I think you shall feel much better after you get your mare back." He took the jug from her hands and pushed it into a corner. "In the meantime, try not to alert Brandon."

She was not being difficult because of her mare. Lyanna sighed. There was little point in explaining it to Benjen once more. He knew well enough what the situation was. Although she would feel much better when her mare's she was replaced and she could ride outside in the light of day.

Looking own at her dress, Lyanna considered asking her brother to go walk alongside the wheel house so that she might change her attire, yet swiftly realised that would only catch Brandon's attention. The very last thing she needed was her oldest brother and his supervision. There had to be someway in which she might convince Robert to break their betrothal; and somehow she would have to avoid making Brandon and Ned suspicious.

The idea, whatever it was, was not likely to come to her in her current state. The she-wolf abandoned the pursuit in favour of a handful of moments of silence. As fate would have it, however, she was not to find fulfilment in even that.

Benjen, apparently unable to endure a few moments of silence and not hearing his own voice, proceeded to further irritate his sister. "You could always sing to him. If that does not put him off the idea of wedding, then I vow that nothing else shall."

"Brilliant," Lyanna murmured. Brilliant it might have been, but it was also useless. For all he liked to tease, must have known so as well. "Is there any other suggestion you plan to put to me, or shall I enchant him with Brave Dany Flint?"

"Indeed, that should warm his heart," the younger sibling agreed. "Plead with him to be given permission to bring along a live replica of father's banner and that might convince him of the wisdom of seeking a bride elsewhere."

"Do you know, I've heard that Harrenhal is haunted. Mayhap a ghost or two could work on convincing my lord Baratheon that he must seek his new lady somewhere far, far away. Essos, if possible."It was only after the words left her mouth that she realised her mistake. Essos. Robert was bound to dislike the very idea. "Or it might be that he would be better served by looking at the daughter of his own bannermen."

A sceptical look passed over her brother's face. "Well, as long as it pleases you, sister mine, I shall bring you a thousand ghosts." If only to keep her silent and content, Lyanna thought. Still, it pleased her that he was willing to give aid. "There is, however, something I want in return. A favour, if you will."

"What sort of favour?" the she-wolf questioned. With Benjen the gods knew he could mean anything at all. Last time she'd owed him any sort of favour, Lyanna had been obliged to attempt a nearly suicidal course for herself and her mare. A shudder ran down her spine at the memory.

"Nothing in particular. I would not wish to limit myself." A sly smile played on his lips. "I just want a promise that should I need your aid, you won't hesitate." He was planning something. Lyanna was certain. Yet she could not refuse him. It was either accepting his proposal or resigning herself to Robert.

A short nod of the head. Her brother, though, knew better than to fall for that. "You must promise, sister," he insisted.

"Words are wind," Lyanna pointed out, still hoping that she might distract him, although after more than a decade in his company she truly should have known much better.

"Yours are most often lead," Benjen contradicted.

Or mayhap she should have been aware that even the best laid plans, which hers was clearly not, most often failed spectacularly and left more than just a few willing to comment on and on about such events.

Silly notions aside, Lyanna knew that the tourney of Harrenhal was most likely her last chance of freeing herself from a miserable life as Robert's spouse. With that particular goal in mind, Lyanna had made serious preparations. She had been careful in many of her choices for the tourney. Every little detail had been thought through. It was said that the King would participate. That was just as well. His court would follow. There would be many high-ranking lords to pick and choose from.

If good fortune was on her side she might even stumble upon a man of similar rank to Robert. The only one who came to mind was Lord Lannister's son. Jon Arryn's heir was Brandon's friend. If she tried to charm him, he would undoubtedly tell her brother. Now that would be a bother.

"As charming as you look when considering with all your seriousness an issue," Benjen cut right through her train of thoughts, "I would have your words now. Unless, of course, you've changed your mind."

"It seems that the older you grow, the less amiable you become. And you used to be such a sweet boy," she sighed. "Very well then, I do solemnly swear I shall do you a favour when it is called for."

Botheration. The wheelhouse shook once more. Lyanna spat out a curse as her head hit the wooden wall. "Whoever invented this contraption deserves to be locked into one and sent along the kingsroad throughout the Seven Kingdoms." She was halfway certain that the inventor, may the gods relegate him to the deepest circles of hell, had done it to torture others. There was no other feasible explanation.

Her suffering seemed a constant source of joy to her brother. Benjen simply grinned at her, arranging one of the pillows behind his back. "Such dark thoughts. Were I a hapless suitor and had you delivered such lines, I would be more than reluctant to incite your anger in the future."

"But as my brother you are more than happy to do so," she growled at him, taking one of the pillows and shooting for his head. Benjen ion in his hands. "Do not think that just because the gods frown upon kinslaying you are safe."

"You would go against the word of the gods?" Benjen gasped, though in such a manner as to let her know he was less than impressed with her threat. "Tall words and no action. Methinks you haven't the daring to do anything."

"Little brother, you are losing skill, I fear." She already wore a damp dress. A torn one would only serve to bring her to the attention of others.

Benjen , apparently understanding it was time to put an end to their game, threw the pillow back at her. "Father would be so proud of you."

He probably had the right of it. Rickard Stark would be more than thrilled to know his daughter was making an effort all on her own to not be perceived as a child. Much as her father loved her, he sometimes despaired at her antics. Which, if asked, Lyanna would freely admit she was doing as much to hold his attention as to have fun. But even she knew there were times when she ought to act the lady.

After what seemed an eternity trapped in a lurching box, the wheelhouse drew to a halt and the door opened. A gust of air swept past the opening inside. Benjen stepped into out first at the invitation of one of the guards. He dutifully helped her down as well, but could not resist stepping on the hem of her skirts.

Her balance disturbed, Lyanna nearly tumbled down. Knowing very well whose fault it was, she delivered swift retribution, her elbow catching Benjen in the ribs, albeit in a surreptitious manner. Thankfully, Brandon was occupied setting camp and Eddard had already gone to gather wood with some of the other men.

Lyanna waited patiently for her tent to be pitched. She might as well go trough the numerous houses and banners a few more times, though she rather thought she'd learned them well enough. It could not hurt to revise.

Once her accommodations had been prepared, she disappeared within her tent. A small trunk had been placed within, one in which she kept a light cloak and a heavier one of wool, along with a thick dress and a brief history of Westeros that she'd more or less taken from the Winterfell library when Maester Walys was otherwise occupied. He would not miss it for such a brief period of time, she reckoned.

And if he did, she would just explain that she had needed it. There, he would have little reason to chide her thus and she would have learned what she wished to know.

Loud sounds from without let her know that someone was approaching. Lyanna looked up in time to see the flap of her tent rise to allow entrance to Brandon. "Here you are," he said. "Did I not tell you not to disappear without a word?"

"You once also told me that not eating my parsnip would summon a great ice dragon who would gobble me up," she deadpanned.

"Lyanna!" Clearly her brother was in no mood to indulge her.

"Apologies. Next time I shall be sure to tie a rope to my leg and give you the end. You'll have no problem finding me then," she snapped. As if she could disappear into the wilderness.

"I'll tie it myself if you continue with this act," the older brother warned.