*** Winterfell 280 AC***
Lyanna Stark was walking from the window to the door and back again, her curly stable brown hair flowing behind her and her slim frame trembling in fury as her eyes flashed like the fangs of a she-wolf chasing the male shedidnotwant, away.
Lyanna was not bothered by the child in the Vale – Mya Stone – she was bothered by Robert's deeds, or lack of them. His apparent lack of concern for women he bedded – and the children as some of the poor girl's belly swelled. Mya Stone and this babe in the Marion belly would not be his only child at the rate he was going through the scullery maids at Winterfell. Fortunately, Hullen, son of Master of Hoses Hurin, agreed to wed Marion before she started to show that she was with child.
"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it won't change Robert's nature," she had said to Ned at the fire place this evening, when their father told them, that when she reaches the age of six and ten, her betrothal to Robert Baratheon would be announced. Poor Ned was ecstatic for both of them. Robert hooted in glee and gave a hearty slap on her brother's shoulder.
Did anybody ask her?
No.
Did Robert himself talk to her during his stay? Not a word was exchanged between them, except greetings, during his stay.
Her father?
No. He was to enamored with his ambition of marrying all his children into the South.
Brandon was to be wed to that Tully girl. Lyanna had met Catelyn and Lysa Tully when she traveled with Brandon and their father to Riverrun Benjen stayed behind as a Stark of Winterfell-the two redheads were as interesting as fishes.
Brandon was bored with the girl – who was all sweet smiles and courtesies. Brandon complained that that was all his betrothed was, sweet as a lemon cake and nothing else. Her older brother Bran was not at Winterfell currently – or Robert would already be black and blue because of his behavior. Benjen's glares at Lord Baratheon when he ignored her as he groped the poor serving girl that passed him should have frozen him to the spot – if the look could have done that, there would be an icicle in Robert's place. Rickard now set up the betrothal of herself with the Stag. As if a she-wolf would mate with her prey. She'd rather marry Roose Bolton. Or run away to the Summer Islands and work as courtesan. Or make sure that a Wildling would steal her away. She did harbor one – Mance he said he was called. Apparently he was of the Free Folk and he was raised by the Night's Watch. The next marriage victim of her father was Ned – quiet Ned.
Father sent a letter to Tywin Lannister asking for his daughter Cersei's hand for his second son. Ned was set to get Moat Cailin. Or, if Lady Cersei Lannister was not available, he had already written to Lord Luthor Tyrell for his daughter Lady Mina's hand. If the Lord of the Rock sent his refusal, he'd send a letter to the Reach; if Tywin should accept, Lady Mina would get a proposal to wed Benjen, her baby brother.
Her angry stomping across her room was interrupted with a timid rap on her door.
"Lya? Are you asleep?"
"No, I'm not, Ned."
"Can I come in?" She wanted to tell him to go away, to return to Robert or better yet that Ned should have wed Robert instead of her. That would have solved many problems, and with that thought she opened the door.
Ned took a step back when he saw her face. "This is a bad time … I just … I mean..."
"Come in, Ned," she said, when he slipped passed her, she caught her reflection in the mirror in her room. A wild look in her eyes, a wide smile that showed her teeth, and an all around wolfish expression on her face. No wonder sweet, calm, and quiet Ned wanted to run from her. She smoothed her expression into something sweeter and clasped her hands before her, like she often saw her mother Lyarra do when she was alive. That seemed to do the trick in calming her brother.
"What did you need, Ned?" she asked as she sat on her bed while Ned took the chair.
"About Robert, Lya, he is a good man and as handsome as a maiden would dream..." Ned started to say and it took a lot of Lyanna's patience to not toss her brother into Robert's bed.
"Ned, I don't want to hear your wax poetry of Robert's virtues ..." she finally snapped.
"He'll be a good husband to you."
"No," she asserted. "He is not going to be a good husband – it is not in Robert's nature to be a husband," just as it wasn't in Lyanna's to be a meek lady, and she knew herself well enough to know that this match would be a disaster.
Robert craved constant praise, attention, and admiration. It is why he and Ned were such great friends; their natures just meshed well, like bread and milk. Even if she turned a blind eye to Robert's philandering the Heart Trees know he'll never stop chasing skirts and decided to uphold the Northerner tradition of bastard treatment – that any natural born Child of the Blood has to be taken care for – she'd probably bankrupt House Baratheon. No it was complete disregard of her as a person that she resented Baratheon for.
"If this is about Mya Stone ..."
"Ned, I'm of the North – if you recall we do not blame child for their parents' deeds. And any child of the Stark house is well provided for. Just look at Dalla Snow – our half sister … ahh you did not know; she was born two years after Benjen. Also Brandon has got a son with a miller's daughter – father arranged for the girl to be wed to a crofter and paid twenty golden dragons for the child's upkeep."