"Gimme the sword."
"No."
"The sword, give it to me."
"No."
"Sword please."
"No."
"Hand over the sword."
"I can has Sword?"
Ned facepalmed and sighed, turning to me with a look of complete exasperation.
"Oh come now, Lyanna, that's not even proper Westron."
I grinned much in the manner of a shark staring down an especially plump seal.
"For the last time, Lyanna," He replied holding back a tide of frustration, "I am not letting you have Dawn! It is the rightful property of House Dayne! And yes, I know that Arthur Dayne was party to an unforgivable crime. A crime against you, against our house, and against all that is proper, noble, and just in the realm... but despite it, his family has a long tradition of honor and justice. It would be dishonorable to spit in the face of that history."
He took a deep breath. "It would also be folly to further antagonize the Dornish. They're already furiously angry, and quite rightfully so, at the appling death of princess Elia and her children. We're also going to be their guests as Starfall is the best location to find a ship, and I do not want to antagonize them into doing something untoward. Which at best may leave us as hostages, and at worst will leave Benjen as the sole surviving member of our line. Now do you understand, sister?"
I paused for a moment and smiled. "Thank you for giving me your reasoning, Ned. Now if you'd be so kind as to allow me the same courtesy? For me to tell you why I want Dawn?"
He took a deep breath. "I assumed it was because you wanted it for yourself, or for your son. But if it will end this nonsense, then please do. But when I say no, do obey me this time."
I nodded. Fair enough. "Well, Ned, like they say... to assume makes an ass out of you and me."
He paused and blinked. "That makes no sense."
I sighed. "In some areas ass is a colloquialism of Arse. Ass You Me. Get it?"
He groaned. "Please explain again without the wretched pun."
I grinned. "I don't want the sword for myself. Or for even Brandon. Though I will say I'm terribly tempted. I don't even want it to sell to the Lannisters..."
Ned's face twisted into an almost comical grimace at that. It was like he'd gotten sudden and severe gas pain at just the thought of it.
"Gods be praised..." He murmured. The sarcasm in his tone was probably as sharp as Dawn itself.
"What I want to do is use it as leverage," I replied with a smirk. "Yes, handing it over with a dumb puppy smile would be the oh so honorable thing," I said with a vicious smile, "But the fact is... we're Starks, Ned, we're not Arryns. Our house words are 'Winter is Coming'. Our house words are not 'As High as Honor'. Our house hasn't ruled the North for ten millennia by being nice. We aren't the one remaining bastion of First Man culture and identity on the entire continent worth a damn for no reason."
"Rickard Stark brought the Neck to heel and took the Marsh King's daughter as a war bride. Harlon Stark starved the Boltons in the Dreadfort for two years. Theon the Hungry Wolf is the reason there aren't any bloody Andels in Andelos."
"We are the line of the Kings of Winter. And winter, is a primal force. It's not something you can stop. It's not something you can reason with. It's something you can but prepare for that brings nought but suffering to the foolish and death to the unwary. It is cold, harsh, but it is never cruel. I think House Dayne, and through them, Dorne as a whole need to learn that when faced with the full fury of Winter, men can only bow to the inevitable."
He frowned. "So you'd use it to extort them."
I smiled. "Extortion is such a strong word, my dear brother. I'd say more... remind them that with all things come a price."
He sighed in exasperation. "And what is it that you want from them?"
My smile grew. "You'll just have to trust me."
I had to admit, that even in the distance Starfall was an impressive sight. The towers and walls were of polished white stone that shined like marble. Pointy roofs that glittered like gold. It had a real 'Magic Kingdom' vibe going, right down too gorgeous for this world the Disney Princess.
One whom, if all things were permitted to happen without interrupt, would also be dying an equally Disney death very soon.
Now, as much as I hated to say it, saving her life wasn't on the top of my to-do list, as she didn't technically need to be alive to do what I had planned for her. In fact it might actually be easier if she was dead. However, that would be monstrous. I wasn't selfish enough to be willing to callously use and then discard an innocent for my own agendas. If I was I'd be little better than The Motherfucker. If I could enact my plans and keep her sucking air, then that would be something of a double win in my book.
Plus despite my body, I still had the overactive sex drive of a healthy, and mostly heterosexual, male. The idea of a woman thought by many to be the most beautiful on the continent killing herself was an unforgiavble offense to my labido.
Seriously. At times I wondered if the only way I'd be able to survive the indignity of Roberts addiction to wine and wenches was... well... to drowned my sorrows in wine and wenches.
Perhaps we could go whoremongering as a couple. Call it a bonding experience.
I had to laugh, drawing a look from my brother.
I shrunk down a bit and sighed.
I was nervous, that I would freely admit. I simply could not afford to fuck this up.
As we neared we saw movement in the distance. A trio of men on horseback dressed in lilac bearing the sword and shooting star of House Dayne.
Household knights on patrol.
I took a deep breath. Okay. Here we go.
"Halt and identify yourselves," the first of the knights called out as he approached. He did not draw his weapon, but he had his hand near his sword in case he was forced to draw in self-defense.
Ned moved forward. "I am Lord Eddard Stark. In my company are my sister Lyanna Stark of Winterfell and Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. We come seeking "
Wylla the wet nurse, of course, was not worth mentioning.
At the mention of my name however the knight's eyes widened ever so slightly. He turned to look at me. They widened even more once they saw the object I carried.
It had taken several days, countless hours of pleading, cajoling, and otherwise begging along almost as many promises that I wasn't about to get us all killed or worse, dishonored, but he'd finally relented.
He finally gave me the Sword of Dawn.
If this were a less serious situation I'd have probably glared at the man. I could help but find myself equal parts discomforted and disgusted by the presence of the southern knights. You could almost smell the hypocrisy on the wind.
Or was that the pile of corpses we were dragging along with us?
So hard to tell the two apart.
Anyways, I could not afford to react. I had to keep my cool no matter what.
Literally.
I simply couldn't afford to be the happy go lucky She Wolf that Lyanna was before the kidnapping, or the bitter, caustic individual forever on the brink of an emotional breakdown I was now. I had to be every bit the Stark. As cold, serene, and as absolute as winter itself.
It pleased me when he turned away with a blink after meeting my eyes, both because it showed my icy exterior was working, and because I no longer had to fucking look at him.
"What are your intentions, my lord?" He asked with an unsteady voice.
"My intentions are to visit Starfall," Ned replied, "I must speak with Lord Andrew Dayne on the matter of several important issues."
His eyes flashed back to the greatsword I carried, and then to his men.
"What are you waiting for?" He asked the most junior of his companions, a young knight who was barely seven and ten if that. "Go! And tell Lord Dayne that we return with guests!"
The young knight nodded as the two remaining knights moved to join us.
"If my lord will allow it, we will escort you the rest of the way," he offered with a hint of tension in his voice.
I mentally translated that to 'We're not letting you northern scum out of our sight until you've handed over that sword'. It was probably the more accurate of the two.
"Your offer is appreciated, ser knight." Ned replied in a cool tone. "But unnecessary." One that probably translated to 'If we can kill the Sword of Morning, do not fool yourself into thinking you're anything even resembling a threat.'
Ah, the subtle dominance displays of the feudal warrior class. Threats of violence wrapped in honeyed words.
It was like watching tomcats pissing at each other.
The air was still for a moment as the knight and Eddard stared each other down without actual staring. Then the knight bowed his head in submission.
"Of course, Lord Stark. We shall ride ahead to make sure your progress is uninterrupted."
And with that, they started down the road.
And not a moment too soon either. The stench was killing me.
It took every ounce of will I possessed not to start hyperventilating at the sight of Andrew Dayne.
Tall, strong, and pale of hair he was very much the image of his brother. There were differences however. His hair had a hint of yellow rather than his brother's white, and his eyes were more intense. He bore more signs of aging as well, with laugh laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.
I knew I was looking intently at him, maybe even to a degree that would garner attention, but I didn't care. I had to force myself to see that he was not his is not his brother. He was not Ser Arthur Dayne.
Arthur Dayne was dead. Eddard killed him.
He was not Arthur Dayne. Arthur Dayne was dead.
I let out a low breath, but at the same time tensed when I saw his attention turn to me. Or rather the sword in my arms.
"My brother is dead," Andrew stated calmly, from atop his great white stallion.
"Aye," Eddard replied. "He, along with Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower were guarding my sister. They refused to surrender. They..."
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. Probably judging how flowery he could describe their demise without offending me. Personally I would have said, or at least wanted to say, that they dropped like the turds they were, but that would be less than diplomatic.
"They fought to the last. I come to return the body of your brother, remand those of the fallen Kingsguard to your care" he replied, "And ask for your aid in preparing the bones of my fallen comrades for transport."
His eyes flicked back to Dawn for a moment. There was a slight spike of tension, but he kept his cool demeanor. "Of course."
He nodded to a servant who stepped forward. In her arms she carried a tray. On it were several small loaves of fresh bread and small saucers of salt.
"I welcome you to Starfell."
I permitted myself to relaxed a bit as I tore off a piece of the soft, white bread and dipped it in the salt. I was now under the protection of the guest right, which believe me, was something of a relief.
Now, that might seem a bit naive, considering how many flagrant violations were to be found in Westerosi history, but the simple fact is those were the exception not the rule. If I was the Twins, Sunspear, or Casterly Rock I might be a bit more paranoid.
Plus, for what it was worth, House Dayne was honorable. Or at least they tried to be, so as long as I did nothing to threaten them, they'd do nothing in turn.
The bread was absolutely delicious and I virtually inhaled the small loaf. While Wylla's hearty peasant cooking was leagues better than the veritable prison slop that the Kingsguard had been feeding Lyanna during her captivity, it was still paled in comparison to even the humble efforts of even a simple castle baker.
Sparing the woman herself a glance, I had to say she probably agreed if the way she was snarfing down her bread was any indication.
Slowly, we rode into the courtyard of the castle, and as we did so, I saw him Andrew ride next to Ned, a veiled look of concern on his face as his eyes flicked back to Dawn.
"Lord Eddard," he said with great care. "I must ask why is your sister carrying the sword of Dawn."
He was nervous and rightfully so. As we were protected by Guest Right he simply couldn't demand that we give him the sword, and due to our unique position and rank, even if he was inclined to break it doing so would incur the wrath of not only the North, but of the newly crowned Baratheon king, whom would probably be inclined to tear Starfell down to the foundations and piss on every stone if they harmed even a single silky hair on my pretty little head.
"She requested that I turn the sword over to her as restitution for your brothers part in her kidnapping and the..." Eddard's jaw tightened, "Various indignities that followed. If you wish to see it returned, you must speak to Lyanna."
His eyes flicked to Wylla, or rather the swaddled babe in her arms, and face twisted into a pained grimace. I had to wonder though. Was that sympathy for my plight and the fucking torment I... Lyanna'd been put through, or was it a more selfish realization that this fucking sword wouldn't be coming back cheap?
"I understand," he said after a moment, "Though I will admit that I find it somewhat peculiar."
Part of me wanted to be offended, but I understood how the system worked. At least in Andel culture, rape wasn't seen as a crime against the woman, but against her father or husband due to the damage it did to her marriage value. First Man culture was much more ambiguous and the definition of rape depended highly on regional tradition. In Rhoynar culture, however, it was a clear cut case of a crime against her person.
As a Stony Dornish, the Daynes tended to lean more towards the Andel side of the tracks then the Rhoynar, but at the end of the day, they were still Dornish. His surprise was probably less at the fact he'd be talking with me, and more that someone from north of the Red Mountains would actually consider treating a female as something other than a self-propelled womb.
I made a note to one day introduce him to Maege Mormont.
Near the entrance of the keep proper I saw her. Shapely, exotic, and gorgeous beyond reason. Ashara Dayne, the Disney Princess of Disneyland. Ned's face softened at the sight of her, but I could see thinly veiled pain and longing behind his icy exterior.
Shit, he had it bad.
I couldn't blame him. I could feel parts of my body reacting that were entirely new to me. Reactions which I could honestly have done without.
Was it getting warm all of a sudden?
Yeesh.
Anyways, she also reacted at the sight of Ned. Joy, flavored Bittersweet.
I couldn't help but wince. No good would come of this. In fact, I knew exactly what would come of this...
"It seems that my sister wishes to speak to you, Lord Eddard," Andrew smiled wistfully, "Go. Do so, and I shall speak to yours in turn."
Ned nodded. "Thank you, Lord Dayne."
Shit. This was moving a bit faster than I expected.
"My lady," Lord Andrew said after a moment of thought, "If I may show you to my solar, I would like to discuss your custody of the Sword of Dawn."
I nodded. "Of course. But I need to speak with Lord Reed and servant for a moment."
"Of course, Lady Lyanna."
Slowing my horse for a moment I moved next Howland and Wylla. As she didn't know how to ride, she was sharing a mount with Howland for the moment.
"I need both of you to listen to me very carefully," I said with a calm, cool tone, low enough to not be heard by anyone else.
Wylla tensed slightly, as she was still uncomfortable around the nobility. But Howland nodded. "Yes, my lady?" He asked, probably for the both of them.
"Wylla. You are to see that my son is tended to by the household maids and then return to Howland as quickly as possible. There can be no delay. Do you understand?"
"Ye-yes m'lady."
"Good," I turned my gaze to Howland. "I have a feeling that my brother is about to do something very stupid. With the best of intentions, but still stupid..."
"As long as you do not ask me to betray my lord's trust, I am yours to command."
"Good. I want you to shadow lady Ashara and make sure she doesn't do anything reckless... like say... jump off a tower."
He blinked in confusion and understandably so as it was a strangely specific request. "M'lady?"
"Trust me..." My eyes turned to my wet nurse, "As for you... if you see her run off looking upset or heartbroken, inform me immediately. Do you understand."
She nodded then froze. "But what if they don't allow me to..."
"Do what I tell you," I replied, "I'll handle the rest. Understand?""
She nodded meeky and then I looked to Howland who nodded as well.
Taking a deep breath, I moved to flank Lord Andrew. "I'm sorry about the momentary delay, my lord. So, to your solar then?"
Lord Dayne's solar was both attractive and practical. The roof was high and grand. At one end was a great desk, with a large plush chair. Several more chairs sat in front of it as if it were the office of some great medieval CEO. Which made sense as even lords had to do paperwork.
In the center of the room say a ring of plush couches with a small table in the center. To one side of them, a moderately sized bookshelf. In my old world, it was not a very impressive sight. Especially not for someone who used to be a book seller, but in this one each of those illuminated tomes represented hundreds of hours of labor and effort.
I mentally noted placing the printing press at the top of my to-do list once I was more settled.
Across from it a large fireplace, that made the Lyanna part of me wince a bit. In the region of the North under the direct control of Winterfell, the colloquial dialect of Westron used by most of the region's Smallfolk had twelve words to describe the concept of something being "drafty". The one she'd use to describe the ostentatious, and largely ornamental fireplace before her would commonly translated to "windswept hole in the wall". Try and use that thing in a Northern winter and they'd probably find your half-frozen corpse huddled up to it come spring, having died of exposure while futilely trying to wring some measure of warmth out of it.
Yeah. Speaking of which, adding the Franklin Stove to the to-do list.
Slowly, Andrew walked to the couches and motioned to the one across from him. "Please take a seat, my lady and the servants shall fetch refreshments."
I nodded and placed the Sword of Dawn onto the table before us. It's presence in such a clear position would give weight to our negotiations.
And then I sat down, and by the gods, I had to fight the urge to curl up like a cat and fall asleep there and then. After almost a year of that fucking tower and it's mediocre bed, the couches of Lord Andrews solar were like plopping my pert, perfectly formed arse onto a cloud sent down from the heavens.
Moments later a servant arrived and laid out a platter of chilled figs and wine.
My eyes went wide. To Lyanna, as a child of the North, fresh figs were something of a treasured delicacy. To me, as a child of the 20th century, fresh figs were a somewhat pricy but much beloved seasonal treat. This synergy between the two personalities locked in my head served to magnify the effect of our fondness for them. In otherwords.
I. Fucking. Love. Figs.
Now, layer this on top of the fact that Lyanna's diet had been rather bland for most of her captivity, as The Motherfucker had tried and failed to use promises of good food as one of his methods of getting her to cooperate and you had a perfect storm.
It was all I could do to not seize the entire platter and retreat under the table like Gollum with his Precious.
If he saw the conflict in my eyes, Lord Andrew was polite enough to say nothing. I had to hand it to the man. He did possess much of the innate nobility of his brother, but seemingly without the raging fucking hypocrisy.
To steady my nerves I reached for the goblet of wine poured by the serving girl.
I regretted it almost immediately.
We were in Dorne so it would make sense that our hosts would ply us with Dornish treats, and for wines the most iconic of those was the famed Dornish Red.
I was, to put it bluntly, not a wine person. I was more a beer guy. It was mostly due to never having acquired the taste for it to be honest. Lyanna on the other hand, as a daughter of high nobility, was something of a connoisseur. However she'd also spent a year locked in a tower so her palate was a little raw and not used to strong flavors.
The appeal of a good Dornish Red, and I knew well that this was a very good Dornish Red, was the strength of its flavor. Flavorful and acidic, it's bitter-sweet character was famed from the Summer Islands to the the Wall. And it was also way too much for me right now.
I winced as I swallowed my first sip.
Lord Andrew frowned. "Is it not to your liking?"
I took a deep breath.
"It is to my liking my lord, or it would have been if not for recent events."
I looked at him and frowned. "My lord. I know that under your congenial exterior you must be confused and not a small bit offended that I am using guest right as a shield while I ransom the Sword of Dawn, an item so fundamental to your family's identity that it literally forms the mark of your house."
He frowned somewhat and then looked at me with a slight frown. "It has occurred to me, my lady."
I nodded. "I believe there is a time for pleasantries, but a negotiating table is not one of them. We must be honest with ourselves and with each other. As such, if you would listen, I would like to explain to you why I would be so brazen."
While still schooling his features, he'd relaxed ever so slightly. In his eyes I could see annoyance and worry. Two emotions that I found to be utterly reasonable, all things considered. "Very well," he replied after a moment.
"I will begin with a rhetorical question. What is the first oath of every knight?"
He blinked. "My lady?"
"What is the duty with which you are charged? What is the oath you make before your seven gods when you take up the title of Ser?"
"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women," he replied automatically.
"Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped me," I replied, schooling my features the best that I could, trying to fight down the skin crawling, nausea inducing sensation that came with speaking his name. "He stole me from my kin. He locked me in an old border tower fifty leagues hence. And there, he imprisoned me. Conjoled me. Manipulated me. Starved me. Beat me."
Despite my best efforts I felt my emotions rising and my voice beginning to crack. No. Now now. Out of all the moments I need to be in control. I needed it now. I clenched my fists. Bit my lip and forced myself to continue. "And when that failed to get my cooperation. He raped me. Again. And again. And again. Forty-seven times, he violated me."
My voice cracked at that admission and I felt a tear run down my cheek as I gritted my teeth and soldiered through the torrent and pain and self-recrimination that came with it. I had to maintain my focus.
Lord Andrew's features were equally schooled, but I saw a fire in his eyes and a tightness in his neck that spoke of a hidden fury.
"For he was obsessed with prophecy," I continued, "He believed his son Aegon to be the Prince that Was Promised and that to complete the 'Three Heads of the Dragon' he'd need a Visenya. With his wife unable to bear another child, he decided to look elsewhere. So he turned to his beloved prophecy..."
"The Song of Ice and Fire," Andrew said, "Arthur said he spoke of it often."
I nodded trying to fight the tears. "He needed the ice to his fire. His obsession would allow nothing less."
"He was mad," Andrew spoke. "What he did to you, my lady, was a violation of every..." He took a deep breath. "What he did was a violation of all that is right and just in the world."
I nodded. "You're a fine man, Andrew Dayne. Better than most. And it relieves me to hear you say that, while saddening that I must tell you what I'm about to say."
He nodded.
"Throughout all of this, your brother, the Sword of Morning, sworn to the seven to protect to be brave. To be just. To defend the innocent and to protect woman, and charged by the traditions of your house to fulfill that oath at the cost of his very life..."
Andrew flinched. He probably saw this coming but it was still a kick in the gut.
"He was sworn as a Kingsguard to obey the king and his family," he replied after a moment.
"That is the easy answer," I replied, "But he was also the Sword of Morning. And if being the Sword of Morning was a station that allowed for easy answers, every hedge knight and man at arms would carry a star metal blade."
For a long moment Lord Dayne and I sat in silence. Without the outpour of words, the emotions that I'd been dredging up were permitted to run free. Despite the dry heat of Dornish midday, I felt as if I were standing in the midst of a Northern winter. A shiver ran down my spine as I hugged myself for comfort and warmth.
Buried in the loss and rage of losing my world, was a very real sensation of freedom that came with Lyanna's body. While I had been heavy-set and generally built like a refrigerator, she was young, thin, and in her prime. Just walking in her delicate frame was like hopping from cloud to cloud compared with the omnipresent weight of my previous form. But right now, after having aired my deepest torments to a stranger, I would have given my soul to be big and ponderous again, rather than a frail and delicate winters rose.
"I understand," Lord Dayne said, drawing my attention out of the pits of my emotions. He had a tired look to him, almost as if he'd aged 30 years in as many seconds. "My brother, in fulfilling one oath, betrayed another and was part to actions grievous harm to your person and that of your family. He..." he paused to take a breath, "He failed as the Sword of Morning."
"Not entirely," I said after a moment, "He was trapped. The m... prince used the bonds of friendship to manipulate him. Hightower bombarded him with reminders of his Kingsguard oath every time he showed a moment of doubt. He at least tried. That's more than most can say. It's why I'm here. It's why I didn't demand that my brother take his sword by right of conquest. It's why I didn't want his body left for the scavengers. I can never forgive him, but I cannot truly hate him. In the end, he was human, and we humans are flawed creatures. He may have failed to carry the burden with which he was charged, but in the end, most lesser men never would have even tried. In a way, he was just another victim of Targaryen madness. Yet another sacrifice to the Iron Throne."
Now, at this point I was lying through my teeth.
I still wished I could keep the damned sword.
I still wished I didn't have to drag his fetid corpse through the sunbaked dornish mountains during the height of summer.
And still loathed him for what he'd been party too, even if he'd been subjected to peer pressure.
Everything else I'd said was the complete truth. I was an advocate for truthfulness. It was easy to be trapped in a lie, but if people believe you to be honest, it became very easy to on occasion slip in the occasional small but useful fib.
Andrew spent a long while looking at the sword on the table. He was pensive. He was sad. He was angry. He ran the gamut of emotions before looking up and nodding.
"Thank you, Lady Lyanna." He took a deep breath, "Considering everything that has been done. I can't help but feel you've put my brother's spirit to rest with those words. House Dayne owes you a debt. Both as restitution for the crimes in which Arthur was party to as the Sword of Morning, and in thanks for your defense of his honor, despite those very crimes."
I stood up and lifted the sword from the table, offering it to him hilt first. "Then I have no more need of this."
He smiled and accepted the blade. "You have my thanks, my lady. House Dayne will never forget the honor of House Stark. Whatever you ask of me, be it in my power to fulfill, I shall see it done."
I took a deep breath. I hope he'd still be saying that in 30 seconds, because I was about to ask a doozie...
My train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. In that moment I felt my blood turn to ice.
"Yes?" Lord Dayne asked.
The door cracked and a man at arms spoke through the gap. "My lord, Lord Stark's maidservant is here. She says she has an important message for Lady Lyanna."
I was up in a flash and running for the door. "What happened?"
"It's Lady Ashara, just like you said..."
Andrew turned. "My sister?"
"Which way did she go!" I demanded as I threw open the door.
Wylla pointed. "That way, m'lady..."
I rounded on Lord Dayne. "What's the name of the tower in that direction."
He blinked. "Lady Lyanna, you will explain to me what is going. Now."
"No time!" I explained. "The name of the tower!"
"The Palestone Sword..."
My eyes widened with recognition.
"We have to go! Now!"
"Explain! Now!"
"If we don't stop her, your sister's about to take a flying leap!"
You know...
I had to admit, that once properly motivated, the man was pretty fast on his feet.
