Chapter 8: Lyanna

Lyanna wiped her hand on the underside of her dress as soon as she sat down. Although she noted, and appreciated, his effort to bathe, Robert was always sweating like a pig. She had barely touched his arm, but her hand had emerged slimy nonetheless. He was saying something to her now about his little brother, but she hardly paid any attention. No, with Robert all she had to do was smile occasionally and the man would swoon for days. She found it disgusting. Her father and brothers told her she should be flattered, that Robert was a fine catch, but she found him to be rather dull. The man had no imagination, no vision, and he bored her to tears. He wasn't completely awful, though. He was always sweet to her, and her brother Ned loved him, which meant he must have a good heart. She had always known that one day she would have to marry a lord, though she had simultaneously nourished the hope that her father would change his mind. As she was now fifteen and betrothed, it seemed her dream would not come to pass. Still, if she had to marry a lord, she could probably do worse than Robert Baratheon.

Her thoughts settled on her chance encounter with Prince Rhaegar, wondering if he would recognize her. The young prince had a reputation for being gallant and proper. It had been fun to catch him off guard. Remembering his violet eyes fluttering over her naked body, she immediately felt guilty as his wife, Princess Elia of Dorne, entered the feast by his side. The prince was on the other side, so he did not see her as the royal procession passed in front of their table. Lyanna noted that Elia looked pale and tired, leaning on her husband's arm.

"Lyanna." She turned to face Robert who was now cradling a small package in his left hand. He handed it to her with a shy smile. It was heavy.

"I saw this at the market today. I thought it would complement your eyes, since they're grey."

Yes, oaf. They are grey. And my hair is brown, and my dress is silver. Anything else you want to notice?

Lyanna unwrapped the comb, putting on her best fake smile.

"Oh, Robert. It's lovely. Thank you."

"I knew you would like it. Ned said you would rather a dagger, but I told him that you would rather the comb. I told him, 'Ned, I know women, and women love jewelry.'"

"Yes, you do know women." But you don't know me.

Robert took her hand in his, gently stroking her fingertips. "Lyanna,I—"

"Lords and ladies, I welcome you to this tournament which Lord Whent has so graciously hosted. I look forward the festivities to come, but first, I have a surprise for you all."

Lyanna turned to see King Aerys standing, addressing the crowd with a smooth voice and a malicious grin. Goosebumps appeared on her arm and she could feel Robert tense up beside her. The hall, noisy just moments before, was now utterly silent as everyone braced themselves for a "surprise" from their king. After several suspenseful moments, the doors opened and young Ser Jaimie Lannister entered dressed in white scale armor. He approached the dais and knelt before the king. It was all over so fast. A white cloak was produced, the words were said, and Tywin Lannister's heir rose a landless knight of the Kingsguard.

"Tywin's not going to like that." Her brother whispered behind her, wiggling in to sit beside her.

Lyanna turned to acknowledge her brother. "Brandon, I thought you were sitting with the prince?"

"I was, but Aerys demanded that Rhaegar be seated at his table. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you, dear sister." He winked at her affectionately.

After a brief welcome speech from Lord Whent, the night's entertainment began. Tournaments always attracted performers; the opportunity to perform before hundreds of lords meant a greater chance of earning a place in a holdfast. Bards, dancers, jugglers, and even an acrobatics act were all waiting to demonstrate their abilities.

Lyanna tuned out almost immediately. Her brother and Robert were engaging in a heated debate over the advantages of a war hammer versus the long sword in combat, fueled by their efficient consumption of wine. The bards, though talented, were boring as well. They all sang the same silly songs. She finally gave up and began imagining conversations between people across the hall. Her gaze fell on Cersei and her uncle Kevan Lannister. Both had fixed smiles on their faces, but their eyes were angry. They seemed to be arguing.

"Cersei, did you put Jaimie up to joining the Kingsguard? Your father will not be pleased." Lyanna imagined Kevan was telling his niece. Cersei took a deep sip of wine.

"I did no such thing. Jaimie made his own decision. Mmmm, this wine is delicious. I think I'll have another glass. Excuse me, yes, you, girl, fetch me more wine."

"Cersei, you should not drink so much."

"And you should not lecture me so much."

"It is unbecoming."

"Look at me. Would any man in this room think I'm 'unbecoming'. I am a goddess."

"You are a slut."

Lyanna was torn away from her imaginary eavesdropping by the sound a long, sad note. The voice was a soft tenor, and the tone tore at her heart. She searched for the bard only to discover the prince himself singing in the middle of the hall. For several minutes, she listened, entranced, to his sad song. In the last verse he turned to face her table and paused, just briefly, as their eyes met. The tone changed ever so slightly, it seemed to her, from one of mourning to one of regret. He finished the song and returned to his table.

"Lyanna, I've never seen you react to a song like that before. Are you….are you crying?" Her brother teased her, elbowing her gently in the arm.

"Bah!" she said, knocking his wine glass over into his lap. "Oh, sorry. I'm afraid my tears got you a little wet."