We all sit in the Great Hall, laughing and talking. All the men along the benches, cheering to the good health of "the Stark Wolves." Father shook his head at this, but Brandon found it hysterical and howled all night long. At least, until Benjen began to copy him and Mother scolded them both in front of the whole party. Brandon may be a man at 19, but his mother could still nag him like a child.

I stifled a laugh. Mother seems to be tolerating me since I managed to clean up, and even dressed in a stain free dress. My hair is plaited away from my face and I catch many of the men giving me sideways glances, though I have no idea why.

Father stands and instant silence falls. He raises his glass and says in his booming voice, "I thank you all for joining me here tonight. We are most blessed to have all four of my children with us tonight." Father casts us all an approving glance and all four of us sit up, just a degree straighter. "For that, I thank to old gods. Tomorrow, they leave for Harrenhal and I pray they will return home safely."

"And in one piece!" A man in the back yells. I figure Father will scowl for the interruption, but he only nods solemnly, which makes me confused.

Father goes on saying, "As you all know, my daughter, Lyanna, has recently turned sixteen."

"And no sweeter maid has ever been seen." I hear a man whisper too loudly, earning a stern glare from Father, but my heart is in my throat, thinking of why Father be mentioning me now. The blood in my ears is pounding so loud, I think everyone must hear its roar.

"She has now become of marrying age." As he says this, my heart leaps to my throat. "And so, I am pleased to announce her engagement to Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End!"

Immediately, the room bursts into hearty cheers and clapping. Ned turns to me, smiling broadly. Mother is clapping too, tears brimming. Brandon holds his cup in the air and shouts out a toast. Father looks pleased, clapping with restraint.

I stand up quickly.

The clapping dies slowly, everyone looking at me expectantly, like I should say something. How I'm grateful for such a wonderful opportunity, a rich and powerful husband, grateful to my father for securing such a profitable match. Father looks at me, confused, but not angry.

I clench my fists so hard, I think I might draw blood. "I will not marry Robert Baratheon!" And I storm out of the Great Hall, every eye boring into my back as I push open the great wooden doors and race up to my room.

I have met Lord Baratheon on one occasion, when he, Ned, and Lord Arryn came to visit. I had no doubt he was blisteringly smitten with me, as he was sweet and gentle in his own way. But one night, Robert got blisteringly drunk and must've mistaken me for a whore. Or at least, that's what I hope, for he slapped my rear end and then unbuttoned his pants, displaying his manhood and shouting how one ride on that would be better than any horse I had ridden. Thank the gods Ned or Father weren't around, it was just Benjen, and so only Benjen saw me smash a jug into Robert's head. Both of us had to drag him back to his rooms and that was not a pleasent experience in it of itself. Robert, hungover and sullen, came on my morning ride the next day to apologize, and while I can forgive a man for one drunken night, the news of his whoring and his bastard children make me loathe to accept him as my husband.

I reach my room and slam the door behind me. Father is probably right on my heels, and will be furious. So I'll have to be calm. I force myself to breath deeply, smoothing out the wrinkles of my gown.

Father explodes into the room with Mother trailing behind him. "How dare you!" His voice makes the wall shake and my resolve almost breaks, but I stand firm and look him right in the eye.

"I will not be made Robert's whor-"

"You will do as I say as long as you are my daughter. How dare you defy me in front of my men! How dare you-"

"Robert is a drunkard and a fool!" I spit at him, refusing to back down, refusing to break eye contact. Father's face turns red.

"He is Lord of the Stormlands and a valuable ally of Winterfell. He is Eddard's-"

"He has sired enough bastards to take King's Landing with, and if you expect me to be a Baratheon whore, you're a bigger fool than him!"

That's when the slap comes, fiery and sure, and while I expect it, that doesn't stop me from crumpling to the ground with a cry, my cheek burning. Father stands above me imperiously, all the frost of winter in his eyes. Oh Father, I think softly. I wish I could do this for you- but I won't.

"You will travel to Harrenhal with your brothers in the morn. You will meet your betrothed there and you will do your duty as a Stark." His voice is heavy as stone and his body is rigid, hardened with rage. I say nothing, only glare at him. He does not flinch. I am the one to look away, and with that, he leaves without a word.

Mother paces around my room for a bit, starting sentences but never finishing them. She wrings her hands in frustration. A few times, she comes close to me and makes to slap me. I don't flinch, but she never manages to follow through. After half an hour, she simply leaves without a word.

I am left alone in the dark cold. Old Nan scurries in silently and lights a fire, but leaves as quickly as she comes in. The fire offers no warmth to me. I am suddenly aware of the tightness of my dress, of the tension of my scalp, of the burning of my face. I grab my blankets and bury my face in then, screaming into them. But it's pointless. I curl up in my bed, feeling cold and angry. I don't know why I try to do these things, don't know why I'm so bloody foolish sometimes. There was no point making a scene, no point arguing. Why can't I just go along with what cannot be changed?

Someone opens the door and I look up, suddenly aware of the wetness of my eyes. It's Ned, holding a rag in his hands and looking positively awkward. I give him a soft smile.

"I heard- well, the entire household heard. I thought you could use this." Eddard comes close and, sitting across from me, presses the cloth against my face. Damp and cool, I felt the burning edges of Father's slap soften. Me and Ned sit in silence for a while, looking everywhere but each other.

Eventually, Ned says, "Robert is a good man."

"I'm sure."

"He's strong and brave and courageous." Ned went on. "He loves you dearly, and you will have healthy sons together."

"And his whoring? His drinking? He already has a bastard daughter in the Eyrie, and yet you think he'll be satisfied in my bed?" Ned opens his mouth to argue, but I keep going. "I don't hold the bastard against him- the fact that he acknowledges her speaks of his character- but I- I…" I look at my hands and sigh. "I was foolish. I shouldn't have embarrassed father like that."

"You were upset."

"I was foolish." I press the cloth to my eye, wincing. "I know my place, I know my duty, but-" I frown, not knowing what to say. Ned just nods slowly. Silence creeps in on us gently.

"He does love you," Ned says. "I believe it. He'll change, once you're married. He'll be the husband you desire."

I smile and shake my head. Stupidly honorable Ned, believing in everyone and everything to their fullest. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned," I say, looking up to him and cupping his cheek with my hand. "But it cannot change a man's nature."

Sorry for the long break between updates. School. Ugh.