Lyanna gave a low grunt at the clanking coming from without the tent. She turned on her side, attempting to block out the disruptive sounds, bringing one palm up to lie flat upon her ear. No amount of pressing helped her though. The men were determined, it seemed. She would have liked to say she was equally resolute and that proved enough to project her wish into reality. Thus her attempt to sleep the morning away yet again took a blow by the sharp stabs of the din which had her moaning in annoyance and moving to lie on her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. When that too failed, she finally propped herself up on her elbows, with a grimace, just in time to see the flap rise to admit her younger brother.
"Woe is me, I have awoken the sleeping beauty," he teased, a wide grin firmly fixed upon his face. Benjen glanced over his shoulder and for a moment seemed distracted by aught she could not make out. Just as soon, however, he entered fully. The flap fell in his wake and the sounds from without become somewhat dimmer. "That is not the face of a joyful maiden."
"Might be it pertains to the absence of this maiden you speak of. The only one here is me," she grumbled, crawling her way from beneath the furs. "What is it that you want, Benjen?" Once on her feet she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched.
"For one, I've a hankering for a long walk." Unable to see how that concerned her, she was forced into posing the question to him. "And for another, I enjoy your company. Come with me before Brandon gets it into his head that we need to trail in his wake and act as though we are in awe of him."
"Goodness, Ben. You'd think our brother were some manner of grand hero used to adulation." If anything the poor sod was like to out himself as the dime-a-dozen knight with little enough in coherent thoughts to impress a maiden let alone a sea of people. But then might be he needn't impress them by the contents of his mind; after all, she certainly did not believe Lady Barbrey had been conquered with wise words.
"He is already used to adulation," her youngest brother snickered. "The hero part could use some polishing." She laughed along, moving around Benjen so she might wash her face and hands. Her brother was kind enough to concern himself with a small triangle of cloth she's been using to exercise her stitching for the time being. Such being the case, Lyanna felt comfortable dressing herself for the walk.
"As to that, he would give you quite the tongue-lashing were he to hear." Benjen murmured his agreement. "And for some reason, you do not seem at all fearful of such an outcome."
"He is my brother. The worst he'll do is far from the worst that could happen. You know the King had a man's tongue cut out for speaking out of turn, aye? What are a few raps to that?" The better question would have been if there was yet someone unaware of what the King had done to Ser Payne.
"I suppose they are not quite as daunting if put in that light." She dragged a dark kyrtle over her head, trying to locate the girdle she had carelessly thrown away the previous night. "Although, Brandon is no small man. I should hate going against him." Her girdle was momentarily forgotten as she found her boots.
"But you had no problem going against three squires at the very least twice your size. At times you make little sense, sister mine. But I suppose that is just as well. Otherwise I should doubt you were a woman." At that she turned around, aiming the boot she'd been holding at his head. He had turned around and was facing her.
"I make perfect sense, you dolt. If you would just listen." Unfortunately for her, Benjen had never been one to give her victories, thus he simply caught the boot before dropping it at his feet.
He chuckled, undaunted by either her frown or the assault. "You make no sense. But you know, you needn't. It is so much more fun when you don't. If I wanted sense and martyrdom, I would have gone to Ned."
"You may still do so," Lyanna warned. She pulled on one of her boots, then held one hand out for the one he'd dropped. Benjen rolled his eyes before complying to the silent request. She tugged the other one on as well before smoothing a hand down the front of her skirts.
"You shan't escape our outing," Benjen taunted, "so you had best be about combing your hair. Unless, of course, you wish to have your sloppy handiwork admired by all and sundry."
"Benjen!" She had not had anywhere near enough patience the night before to braid the hair with any care, thus she had ended up with a poor enough rendition of a braid that she did not doubt Nan would weep to see it. Scowling at her brother, she unknotted the scarp of silk holding the hair bound and began undoing her previous work with great speed. Fingers combed through her hair.
"Leave it. It looks nicer like this." Lyanna pause. "We can return long before the knights enter the joust and have you may go through the usual rituals demanded by your female vanity."
"Much you'd know," she teased, silently agreeing with him. She had no reason to attempt impressing anyone, as far as she was concerned. And if she put effort into it Robert might assume she meant to impress him. The possibility had her shuddering.
"What's that then? Cold?" Her brother moved to grab her cloak and set it about her shoulders. He fastened it with care.
"That is much better." She smiled, giving in to her natural reaction. If only Benjen would act with such grace all the time. Such musing aside, the two of them had best be on their way if they wished to return on time.
In the manner of a gallant, her brother offered his arm and led her without. A few of the men had remain within the camp, a couple sitting around the dying embers of a banked fire, while another few milled about, carrying weapons and pieces of armour. "Where to?" Lyanna questioned, stepping over a pile of spears.
"I thought we might take in the sights. Harrenhal has its own heart tree, did you know? We could raise a prayer." That they could. Lyanna supposed it was not a bad way to spend her morning, albeit she would have been glad for a bite to eat before they set off. Still and all, Benjen did not seem concerned with food.
"A prayer for his soul, if anything," she said, attempting to distract herself from thoughts of breaking her fast.
"I was thinking more along the line of a prayer for change," Benjen replied, tugging her to the side as a squire barrelled down the road. "It seems to me that some people need a relaxing walk much more than either of us."
"I doubt your words will hold much weight with the knight he serves. You know how they are before the joust." Her brother gave a sharp nod, seemingly amused. "Don't start, Ben. I know for a fact you enjoy the joust yourself."
"I enjoy the coin it brings. As for the sport, it is a waste of time and might be more egregiously gives away one's weaknesses." He pointed to another squire struggling under the weight of what seemed to be a few pieces of armour rather than the more manageable amount of only one. "And it makes good fighters used to stiffness. On the battlefield you cannot afford to sit like a slab of stone."
"You cannot run about bared of armour either." Her intervention was met with an exasperated look. "What? I am perfectly correct."
"These mock fights are a great danger to any true warrior. If your enemy has studied your form long before you meet on the field of battle, the change of your winning will have been slimmed by that much. I should rather keep my life than impress some lady or another." No matter that he hadn't any lady to impress.
"You are too hard on our meagre entertainments. In any event, it does not matter as neither you, nor I will have exposed any secret this side of the century." They'd managed to reach the path leading towards what had to be the grove wherein rested the old weirwood.
For a brief moment something in her brother's face changed. It passed with such speed, however, that before she could even be certain she had seen aught to begin with, Benjen was dragging her along with a great relish. "Right you are. Now come; would that we made it before sunset."
"Your velleity is proving to be a bit of a pain," she managed as the air rushed from her lungs when Benjen began running. Had he planned to distract her he would not have had such success as he had when turning around to speak.
"You haven't known pain yet. But you will once I beat you to the weirwood." He let go of her hand, causing her to stumble slightly. But Lyanna had lives enough years on the earth to have found a way to mitigate such disturbances in balance. Thus she regained her footing and took off after her brother.
It would be a waste of perfectly good air where she to taunt him in return. The best revenge was to snatch his prize away. No matter that she was at a disadvantage, what with the folds of her skirts restricting her movement some before she managed to hike it slightly. Unfortunately for Benjen there were a couple of paths one could use to reach the tree and the one he was moving ahead upon was the longer of the two. Some good still came of her exploring her surroundings. With that in mind, Lyanna had little compunction upon setting her feet on the second of the roads.
She jumped over a fallen trunk and a second one. The road had not been cleared for whatever reason, might be precisely because no one expected that people should wish to make use of it. More the pity, for she would have dearly liked not to have to act the mummer in a farce with exaggerated movement. Alas, she endured through the tiresome exercise and would have continued to do so were she not snapped out of her mood by a most interesting sight.
Her feet instinctively moved to slow her advance until she was standing in the middle of the road and staring at a couple of rather impressive siblings. She could not help but be mesmerised by the two of them. Seen in daylight, there was aught quite extraordinary about Targaryen men and their haunting beauty. Blinking rapidly as though to loosen whatever hold they had on her, Lyanna only managed to attract attention herself.
The eldest of the two, like he had done before, squinted at her, absent recognition. It seemed to her that he looked rather drawn and somewhat sickly, albeit the pallor of his skin seemed to be a natural feature rather than one brought by illness. Nevertheless, her instinct kicked in and she approached, responding to Prince Daeron's greeting.
"Lady Lyanna, what a pleasant morning for a walk, is it not?" She'd not asked after their presence and would not have. Lyanna straightened her back as much as she could and continued to pant even as she nodded her head. "Or a run, in your case."
"I was hoping to win a race against my brother," she confessed with nary a worry. It was odd that both of them should be upon a narrow, near-abandoned path, shielded by tall trees. As if there was aught they could not reveal to the full light of day.
"And we are in your way." That came from the other one. Lyanna had settled her gaze upon Daeron for he felt somewhat more familiar to her and thus produced a weaker reaction within her breast. But she could not resist looking at the elder brother when his voice reverberated through her. "Will you be very wrought that you have lost?"
She wrinkled her nose, making a thoughtful noise. There was some tension in the air. "Benjen and I compete over a great many things. He shall simply mark this as another one of his victories and I shall doubtlessly have my day in the sun sometime soon," she spoke carefully. Her steps had brought her near enough that she could make out the glassiness to Prince Rhaegar's eyes. Unlike before, she did not make mention of any discomfort he might be feeling.
"That is what I keep telling him. Competition between brothers can be a most diverting activity." The ever cheerful Daeron had her hand in his. A spark of reluctance to move away from his brother was brushed away. "Might be it would go better if you added your voice to mine."
While she had a great many doubts competition between princes could be aught other than trouble, Lyanna covered her reaction with a small smile and some nervous twisting of skirts. "His Grace must have his reasons for disagreeing. It would be unfair to have to deal with two adversaries. I was heading towards the weirdwood and I daresay my brother must be awaiting my arrival anxiously."
"What a coincidence, so were we!" By the look on his brother's face, the younger of the two was lying through his teeth. Since she could not contradict him as Prince Rhaegar seemed willing enough to go along with it, Lyanna resigned herself to having them for escorts.
"One is always glad for company." At least she could breathe properly and would have some manner of excuse for losing so blatantly. Not that Benjen necessarily would take it into account. Still and all, an excuse was an excuse and she would not give hers up with ease. "If I am not in the way, that is."
Daeron laughed, while his brother frowned. "Such words, my lady. Rhaegar, you see why I tell you, you ought to be less stern. The poor girl thinks we are not glad for her company."
"I cannot help how others feel," the heir to the throne offered. His expression did not soften necessarily, but he did nod her way, as though to allow that he did not find her contemptible. Lyanna struggled to keep a stoic expression herself kin the face of such clear manipulation. What was it that the young Daeron wished? He seemed awfully concerned with keeping the three of them together.
Whatever it was that their true destination had been, the brothers accompanied her on her way, with Daeron keeping the conversation flowing and Rhaegar keeping her on her toes with the attention he heaped upon her every response. If only he would participate. But nay; it seemed one of the brothers got all the aplomb and the other all the charm.
As they neared the general area of the tree, the eldest stopped short, bringing his brother's attention to the spot ahead as well. Whatever it was they could make out, and she could not, on account of a great boulder blocking her sight, was clearly a bit of shock by the way the younger's mouth slacked into a soft oval.
Before she could get one word out, Daeron had taken off and she was left standing with a man who looked none too pleased. For her part, Lyanna lunched for the man's arm as soon as she noticed him moving. The result was that he lost his balance and tipped to the side. "I am so sorry," she apologised, doing her best to keep them both from falling. It was to her advantage that the Prince was quick on his feet and able to regain equilibrium.
"What is going on?" she demanded, hoping his guard was down. The Prince glanced at her as though coming to some realisation, which made her all the more eager for the bit of knowledge. "Your Grace, I am at a disadvantage here."
"I do not think it would be wise to speak at this point." That helped none. Lyanna bristled at being so handily brushed away and made yet another demand when he turned around, seemingly intending to take her back down the path. "My lady, you will come with me now and when the time is right there will be an explanation."
"If Your Grace can catch me, I shall." With that, she was off, following the path which the younger brother had taken and pushing herself something fierce in order to make certain she would not be on the losing side a second time. Whatever waited beyond that boulder and before the weirwood, she was certain a solution could be found. She had a good head on her shoulders and was not afraid to a bit of a tangle.
What she came face to face with, however, gave her a brief desire to reconsider her position.
Benjen had, of course, reached the spot before her. He was also glaring daggers at a dishevelled Robert Baratheon. Sitting upon the protruding roots of the tree, a seemingly shaken Shaena Targaryen held her face in her hands. Daeron looked, for once, unsure of how to proceed.
"What is going on here?" she demanded.
Her brother jumped, his tongue doing likewise. Words began pouring forth from his lips, enough of them to have her ears ringing and her chest tightening. A sharp, deep fury took hold of her and she swore her hair was standing on end by the time Benjen paused for breath.