Chapter Two

Later that night Lyanna sat alone in her room arranging her hair into one long braid. Apparently her father had taken Lord Stark aside when they went off together and told the Northerner about Cersei's 'punishment'. Adjustments had been made accordingly, meaning Lyanna was granted her own room across from Myrcella. It felt odd, wrong. Having all this done in secret made her feel like she needed to be protected and guarded from her own family. Not a pleasant thing. And unnecessary. Lyanna didn't need protection from anyone especially family. She had been finding ways around Cersei's rules for years, what made anyone think she needed help? If the queen wanted everyone to keep believing the stories about Lyanna, then so be it. It didn't matter, not really. She (perhaps) knew why Cersei kept the doubt alive. If Lyanna was right then the reasons were purely selfish, but easy enough to comprehend. Even in King's Landing there were doubts of Lyanna's existence.

Stories travel quickly, gossip even faster. The day of Lyanna's birth provided the realm whispers of a still born prince with a head full of soft black hair. Some people said Cersei smothered the child because it looked like Robert instead of a fair Lannister. The latter story was the one most commonly accepted by all the kingdoms. No celebrations were held on the day of Lyanna's birth and there was no one to announce the birth of a healthy prince or princess. There was nothing but silence from the royal family. Lyanna- at birth- had been very, very sickly and very, very quiet. She wasn't expected to live. As such, Cersei allowed several people to spread the two stories of death. The days wore on and Lyanna grew stronger. When it became obvious the young princess wasn't going to die Cersei sent out more people with more rumors. The cycle continued until no one knew the truth from the lie. Only those closest to the king and queen knew the reality of the situation. With the passage of years Cersei worked harder to keep the secret. She had three children that looked like Lannisters and one who looked like a Baratheon. In the past the dark had always beaten the light. People would begin asking questions, and with questions came investigations.

Lyanna was just beginning to thoroughly piece together her mother's logic when a knock came at her door soon followed by Robert's entrance. She stood and curtsied, knowing full well not to open her mouth. Robert and Cersei were two different people. It wasn't logic or intelligence that allowed Lyanna to terrorize her mother (if she had that she would think twice about many things) instead of her father. It was self-preservation and the childish belief that only the king may do harm to others.

"Lyanna, my dear girl! Why aren't you with the rest of us? Stark's got a good looking lad, go talk to him. Dance, have fun for once in your life, girl!" Robert was drunk off his ass, shouting loud enough for all of Winterfell to hear him. Lyanna bit back a sigh. She didn't like dealing with her father while he was drunk. No matter what it took she generally went out of her way to avoid him during such occasions. Drunk Robert was certainly not a Robert people liked being around, king or not.

"But I am having fun, Father."

"Of course you are. Braiding hair and pacing about are certainly two of your most favorite things. I didn't bring you here to stay locked away in a bloody room the whole damn time! Enough of that gets done in King's Landing." Robert took Lyanna's arm and pushed her towards a chest full of gowns she had yet to have unpacked. "Put on a dress- any will do. Do you really think it bloody matters to me?- and go join us. If I don't see you within ten minutes I'm sending the Kingslayer. Who knows, maybe he'll get a new name."

"Yes, Father." No sooner were the words out of her mouth then Robert was gone with his league of exasperated guards. Wearily, Lyanna picked out one of the various dresses. She didn't care which it was and Robert didn't either. Cersei would be indifferent either way. Myrcella and Tommen would call her pretty no matter what, and Joffrey would continue to be his usual, abusive self before turning his attention to something more worthy of his time. Yet none of that mattered. Lyanna liked wearing nice things. It made her feel… good for lack of a better word. But at the moment she didn't care about looking nice. She just cared about making her stay in Winterfell easier. If putting on a dress and joining the others would accomplish that, then Lyanna would do it.

When she entered the great hall sounds of laughter and general merriment greeted her along with the smell of rich foods. Her stomach growled in response. It had been a while since she ate last, having refused lunch earlier in the day and eating only part of an apple after waking up. Above the clang of forks on plates Lyanna could hear Robert's barking laughter. Lord Stark must have said something amusing. A look around revealed her family to be in spots of honor at the front of the hall, conversing politely with people around them. The rest of the place was a mix of Stark, Lannister, and Baratheon men. Lyanna took note of a boy about her age with dark hair and the looks of a Stark. It could be none other than Eddard Stark's bastard son, she was sure. Almost instantly Cersei's voice sprang into Lyanna's mind.

Beneath you.

Maybe, maybe not. Lyanna gave him a swift once over before turning away. She realized, standing there, that she had no one. This wasn't King's Landing where she could just bury herself in a library for days on end and only be forced out when she was absolutely needed somewhere else. No one here had any special love for her. Here in Winterfell Lyanna didn't have books or friends or solitude. Here in Winterfell she had to be a princess. Granted, the least known-

"There she is!"

Once again the king managed to interrupt her thoughts.

"Ned, this is my eldest. Lyanna Baratheon."

Sometimes- much like now- Lyanna felt like a substitute. She felt as though her name was one meant for another. And it was. Had she not died, the real Lyanna would be in possession of the name instead.

"Well don't just stand there girl!" King Robert motioned her forward. She took uncertain step after uncertain step until she was standing before the two great families. "Didn't I tell you Ned? Looks just like her."

Lord Eddard Stark simply nodded. "She looks like you Robert. And your wife. Baratheon and Lannister. No more, no less."

"You think I do your sister's memory no justice by naming my child for her. Do not lie to me Lord Stark. I always know when you're lying."

"I don't mean that at all, my King. I believe you did her a great justice. My sister would be very pleased."

And so the would be King in the North knows when to fight. It pleased Lyanna to know her father had faithful friends such as Lord Stark. Cersei, however, didn't seem to feel the same way. One look at her mother and Lyanna knew the queen was stressed and unhappy. Perhaps Jamie could help. He always had a way of calming his sister down, Lyanna had noticed. After a few more pleasantries Lyanna found herself outside, wrapping her arms around her body. The cold was biting and fierce up in the north, much like its people. There was hardly anyone around but Lyanna could distinctly make out the voice of her uncle. She was about to call out when Jamie looked up, nodded and walked away. Whoever he had been talking to looked over at her as well.

It was the bastard boy.

Beneath you.

Lyanna smiled politely but didn't dare move any closer. He broke the distance by approaching like a shy animal.

"Hello, Princess." He bowed low.

"Hello… I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Jon Snow, Your Majesty."

Lyanna despised all of the titles, but certain appearances did need to be kept. "You're Lord Stark's bastard. I can't imagine how many people point that out when they first meet you."

"Many. They also tell me I look like him."

"You do." She agreed, adding, "A younger version, just as handsome as the Lord of Winterfell himself." Her cheeks turned red. Damn it! Why had she said that?

"Thank you, Your Grace. If I may say so, you're just as beautiful as your mother. Perhaps more."

"Mmm, careful Jon Snow. One of my uncles could very well be listening. They're very protective. One time a boy tried kissing me on the cheek and the Imp sent him on a lovely little journey somewhere across the narrow sea."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

Lyanna giggled. "No. But I wouldn't put it past Tyrion. He's the one you really need to look out for. Jamie has his sword and cloak, but Tyrion has his wit and cleverness."

Jon nodded. "Why are you out here? It's much cozier inside."

"People aren't exactly my specialty. I don't know how to work a crowd the way a good princess should."

"Is that because you're never allowed outside of your home?"

"Well, well. Aren't we being bold tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I-"

"No, it's fine. I like it." I like you, Jon Snow.

"If you aren't going back to the party may I escort you back to your room?" Jon offered his arm with a slight smile.

"Please. I would like that very much." She returned the smile and the two of them began walking in companionable silence. Lyanna would be a liar if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Beneath you.

"There are two great tragedies in life, one is not to have your heart's desire, the other is to have it."

-Oscar Wilde