i. "Keeping her here is a risk," Jon said. "Your Grace, you would know better than I the reactions of those close to you. Furthermore, the girl is with an ounce of support. She has no family behind her, none to lend a helping hand. Her value is gone."

The truth was often a bitter draught to swallow. Rhaegar inclined his head in agreement. Keeping Lyanna with his could prove a disadvantage. "Do go on."

"My Prince, Dorne might feel threatened. Her Grace, your wife, has suggested to her brother that you wish to supplant your trueborn heirs."

Rhaegar snorted lightly.

ii. "If you insist upon spreading vicious rumours then I might just have you sent back," Rhaegar told the woman before him. "This is no jest. If you wish to incur my wrath keep upon this path of yours and I will make sure your efforts are rewarded."

Mutinously, his wife raised her chin just a little bit higher. "I refuse to play second fiddle to your whore. I am your wife, the mother of your heirs." She caught him by the upper arm, nails digging in the taut flesh. "I am a Princess of Dorne and you will treat me with respect. I will not tolerate her presence in my home."

iii. Queen Rhaella entered the chamber quietly. She walked towards the young mother and placed a hand on her shoulder. Lyanna startled, her head turning with such speed that Rhaella though she'd hurt herself. "I did not mean to frighten you, child."

"Your Majesty," the girl greeted her. "I was merely surprised." A tiny smile blossomed upon her lips. "Have you come to see the children, Your Majesty?"

"Indeed. If I may." But the girl was not about to refuse her, that Rhaella could see clearly.

The twins had been bathed and pampered. They slept, the darling creatures, leaving their bone-weary mother to her own grief.

iv. "I wished to speak to you," the Queen disclosed as they sat down before the hearth. Lyanna had known the visit was no social call. In fact, she had expected as much. Her arrival in King's Landing had produced much of a wave.

With a deep, silent sigh, Lyanna nodded her head. "I am listening, Your Majesty." To her great astonishment, the Queen took her hands in his. She found herself looking in a pair of dark violet eyes.

"Do you love my son?" The question fell between them like stones dropping to the bottom of a lake. Lyanna palled. She knew what was coming.

Cursed was she in her own way.

v. "Females do not inherit." Lyanna's eyes dropped from his. She wished it were not so difficult. "And you do need a Visenya, do you not?" Tears stung her eyes. Lyanna fought to hold them back. She couldn't simply become a watering pot every time something went wrong. "I would be for the best."

"The best for whom?" Rhaegar brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I'd been hoping you hadn't heard." Lyanna accepted his kiss, but he could feel her retreating behind her walls. Those damned walls of hers. "Stay. Their words do not matter."

"They do," she contradicted softly. "I will not be their instrument, Rhaegar. I cannot."

vi. The lance cut through the straw, slicing the target in half. Rhaegar looked around, eyeing the chaos and destruction. It did not help him feel better, it did not alleviate his frustration and it certainly made nothing easier. He threw the lance to the ground, a gesture of half-disgust.

"Are you angry at yourself?" Arthur questioned, standing with his back against the wall. The carnage did not seem to faze him. "Or is your anger directed towards someone else?" Then again, Arthur was not easily impressed.

A short bark of laughter was the only response Rhaegar felt like giving. He was angry at everything and everyone, but especially at his foolish heart for thinking it could hold onto perfection.

vii. Many things could be said about the Prince. Some were good, some not so much. But, standing there in the room with them, Jon could have no doubt that if there was something all should acknowledge, then it had to be the man's love for Lyanna. It could not be anything but.

"Is everything taken care of?" Rhaegar asked. Jon could see his hand holding Lyanna's, pressed tightly into him. It was as if he feared she might slip away. The impending separation loomed before them.

"Everything, down to the very last detail. Your Grace will be pleased," Jon promised, though the Prince's face said otherwise.

viii. Lyanna fought the urge to wake Rhaegar up. Just because she was sleepless, it did not mean that he should miss on his rest. She moved gently about, escaping the hold on his arm. With quiet steps, she made her way to the twin cribs and looked down at the children.

"I wonder if he shall name you Visenya, after all," she whispered to the girl, whose eyes had opened quite unexpectedly. Lyanna thought that she might hunger. "No matter, to me you shall always be my sweet daughter." She took the child in her arms. "Don't ever forget that you are loved. I love you." She kissed the top of her fair head and hummed quietly.

ix. "Tell me his name," Rhaegar asked of her the morning she was set to leave. "I just want to know his name." They had agreed that it would be easier not knowing. Lyanna bit her lip in indecision. Rhaegar, however, was not about to give up. "Lyanna, my son's name."

"Only if you tell me my daughter's name," she countered. But when Rhaegar opened his mouth to answer, she rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. The name was lost between them. "Never ask that of me, Rhaegar." She looked in his eyes pleadingly. "Have some mercy."

x. The cabin was spacious enough and the guards at the door would see to her safety. Lyanna rocked her crying son. "There, my love. Do not weep. Shall I sing you a lullaby?" But the boy was stubborn. Just like his father. Tears of her own slid down her cheeks at the thought.

"Oh, my poor son." She kissed the boy's curls, dark like hers. "You miss them too, Jon? Is that why you cry?" Would it always feel like her heart had been ripped out and shredded to pieces?

Lyanna persisted in her attempt to calm the babe. Perhaps she might succeed in the end.