i really hope g.r.r. martin writes something involving the meeting of these two.

reviews welcome.

~oOo~

The crowd around Lyanna roared with laughter. At dwarf was stuffing a man into a barrel to hide him from a woman on the stage. A company of actors performed what she thought was the Conqueror's Two Wives or something along that vein. She could not be sure. But it was loud and it was bawdy therefore the audience was entertained. A light breeze would occasionally blow across the stage causing the banners and cloth that were hanging to flutter, revealing the old ruins that played host for the stage. The sun, having reached its apex, would now begin its descent and so torches were being prepared so that the performance could continue well into the night. Comedy was for the day while tragedies always happened at night.

She had come to the mummer show to in an attempt to distract herself. She had returned to her tent last night relatively unnoticed, except for Ben and Howland who were watching and waiting for her return. Ben had popped out of the dark as she made for her tent.

"Where have you been? You would not believe the ruckus that was started here! Everyone is looking for you, or for the knight I should say. Were you caught? Ugh, the gods help us if you are caught, father will skin us!"

"I'm here aren't I? I think it would be safe to assume I haven't been caught, no thanks to either of you! Now quiet down before you get us all caught!" Lyanna hissed. She entered her tent with her brother and the crannogman behind her.

"But where have you been?" Ben whined softly. "I couldn't make it to the godswood, what with all the men milling about. I just thought that we, you … well, I just …"

"You thought I had been caught and in turn, you were caught as well," she spat irritably. "I know what you thought."

"That's not fair Lyanna," Benjen replied, wincing at her accusation, "you didn't see what is was like here."

"He's right my lady," Howland spoke up softly in her brother's defense from across the tent, "there was nothing we could've done. We were worried about you."

"I know," Lyanna sighed. She dropped her cloak down on a chair and dropped onto her back on the bed. "There was no way we could've know the king would react the way he did."

"I heard he even sent Prince Rhaegar out to look," Ben piped up, his excitement returned with her perceived forgiveness.

"He did," said Lyanna as she stared up towards the top of the tent.

"How do you know?"

"Because he found me."

The uncharacteristic silence that followed her statement caused Lyanna to look over at Ben and Howland curiously from where she lay. They both stared back at her, mouths agape, eyes gone wide and faces pale. Lyanna burst out laughing.

"By all that is holy, I pray to all the olds gods that that is not how I looked! Your faces," she giggled as she looked back up at the ceiling.

"He … found you …" Ben stuttered.

"Yes."

"He knows …"

"Everything."

"By the seven bloody false hells Lyanna," Benjen exclaimed, no longer able to contain himself, "he knows?!"

"Really Ben, your language –"

"He's going to turn us in!" Ben squeaked.

"Lower your voice," Lyanna snapped, "and no he isn't."

"How …" Ben stopped and cleared his throat, his voice carefully controlled, "how do you know?"

"Because he told me so."

"And you believe him," Ben scoffed.

"Yes I do," Lyanna leaned up on her elbows and looked at the two young men before her, "now if the two of you don't mind, I've had a bit of a trying day and would like to get some sleep."

"But," Benjen protested, "aren't you going to tell –"

"No I'm not," Lyanna exclaimed, throwing a small pillow for emphasis, "not tonight anyway."

Benjen opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by Howland clearing his throat. Ben's mouth twisted into a pout as he rose from his seat with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. Tomorrow then," he said, pointing a finger at Lyanna as he made his way out. Howland began to follow before stopping at the exit.

"You are certain," Howland spoke up softly once more from across the tent.

"Yes I am. Everything will be fine, nothing's going to happen. I promise. Go."

She never did tell Benjen what happened. Not yet anyway. Not that it mattered. Ben, being Ben, was immediately distracted upon waking when he found out about the archery contest. Lyanna had not seen him at all. Howland on the other hand …

He had been apprehensive about what Lyanna had planned to do from the start and now even more so. Lyanna looked through the crowd for the crannogman. While he was similar in age to her older brother Eddard, he was a small, wiry, thing that made him seem younger then he was, at first glance anyway and had a very annoying habit of being able to avoid being seen. Especially when someone was looking for him, or so it seemed. Lyanna had been hard pressed to elude him throughout the day. It was not that she did not want to tell him, but rather because she did not know what to tell him. She herself was not even sure of what happened.

Another burst of laughter turned her attention back to the stage. There were two women now and they seemed to be playing a game of cat and mouse with the man in the barrel and the dwarf. The dwarf began stuffing buckets of rotting fish into the barrel much to the man's horror.

Lyanna sighed. She understood Howland's concern. He had been against the idea from the start, preferring instead to allow the gods to mete out their justice. But it had been Lyanna's opinion that perhaps the gods could some assistance, in this instance anyway. When Howland discovered what she intended to do he had wanted to go to her older brothers for aid and Lyanna knew that this was something Brandon and Ned would never approve. And so she had no choice but to involve him, thereby making him complicit as well. Lyanna did not enjoy doing this, but it had become a necessary evil. Lyanna had believed she would feel some sort of satisfaction at the dressing down of those three little asses. But now all she felt was guilt. Guilt at being discovered, guilt at allowing Ben and Howland to risk discovery as well, and most troubling of all, the guilt she felt about lying to her father.

Her father believed she had stayed in her tents that day due to her finally beginning her bleed. She had forgotten that one distressing little detail when her father inquired after her the following morn.

"Ah," he said brightly as Lyanna emerged from her tents, "feeling better are we?"

Lyanna had stared at him in blank confusion for several seconds before he spoke again.

"You know, from yesterday … when you … you had … ahem … you did not attend the joust because ... you … because …"

It took several moments of her father stammering before she remember the lie.

"Oh! Yes that! Yes. It was false. Something I ate that didn't sit well."

Her father's obvious relief at not having to discuss the topic of her monthly blood should have been an amusing site for Lyanna. But instead the words tasted bitter on her tongue as she forced down the aftertaste of her shame. Lyanna loved her father, dearly. He had raised her as best he could given the circumstances. He had allowed her freedoms that many women of the north would never have. He had never discouraged her interests and even had a hand in the shaping of many. He had always doted on her, allowing her leniency while her brothers were punished, much to her brothers' chagrin. And they often pointed out his willingness to turn a blind eye to the inequities of discipline. Lyanna had to admit that she had used this to her advantage more than once.

Of course now that she was older, description of acts once termed spirited had morphed into headstrong. What was once called determined was now termed stubborn or willful. Which was probably why her brothers did not mind pointing a few discrepancies with her absence from the tourney yesterday.

"Convenient that," her brother Brandon said from across the tent as he fastened a belt around his waist, "you missed quite the show yesterday."

The look her eldest brother gave her was pointed.

"Oh?" she said innocently.

"Oh yes, quite the show. An unknown knight joined the rosters yesterday and defeated, what three houses Ned?"

Her brother Ned was also staring at Lyanna, although the look he gave was not as pointed as it was knowing.

"Mmm," was all he said from where he sat at the table.

"Mmm," Brandon repeated as he took a pair of gloves from a serving boy, "yes three houses. You know, now that I think about it, the same three houses those ruddy little squires belonged to that had been bothering Howland yeah?"

"Mmm," Ned said again. He was now reclining in his seat, his long legs stretched out before him, his fingers laced together and resting behind his head.

"Mmm," Brandon echoed. He now stood facing Lyanna as he pulled on his gloves, his head tilted slightly as he continued to stare at her. "Bested all three."

"And what is so unusual about knights being bested at tourney?" Lyanna questioned dryly, unimpressed with her brothers.

"Nothing at all of course. It's just that, all the winning knight wanted was for the other three to, oh what was it … oh yes, teach their squires manners, right Ned."

"Mmm." The look Ned gave her seemed suspiciously droll to Lyanna.

"And that's surprising? I told you they were a bunch of beastly little bastards. So someone else noticed? They had it coming," Lyanna replied, meeting her eldest brother's stare defiantly.

"I couldn't help but notice that the mystery knight had a very familiar riding style," Brandon stood now with his arms folded across his chest as he looked at his sister, "very familiar. And small too, very small for a knight –"

"Oh gods get to the point Bran," Lyanna spat testily, "what are you trying to say already –"

" – pissed off the king too. So much he sent the prince out to look for him –"

" – if you are accusing someone of something I wish –"

" – calling him a traitor to the crown. I would think the amount of trouble they would cause –"

" – you would spit it out and be done with it otherwise –"

" – if they were caught could get a lot of people not just hurt but killed! Not to mention –"

" – just shut up!"

" – ruining their house and reputation!"

"ENOUGH!"

Lyanna and her brother's voice had become louder and louder as they bickered back and forth to the point that they were shouting by the end. But neither of the combined could top their father. His voice caused all action within the tent to stop, maybe even outside as well. Lyanna and Brandon, while silent, continued to glower at each other.

Their father stared at the two of them for a moment before he spoke to Brandon first.

"You have a tourney to prepare for, focus your energies on that."

Brandon was having none of it.

"Father," his voice far more tempered when speaking to their father than when speaking to his sister, "this wasn't some childish prank or silly race with the Bolton boy. She could've been ruined. Our house reputation ruined. This involved the crown –"

"And the crown investigated and all they found was a discarded shield in the woods," her father interrupted. "Prince Rhaegar himself said he could find no other trace of the knight. It's done."

"But she –"

"I said it's done!"

Brandon's back stiffened slightly and his mouth tightened but he said no more. Her father sighed and then turned to Lyanna. After a moment he walked over to where she stood and took her chin in his hand, gently forcing her to turn her gaze to his. In his eyes she could see love, concern, pride and disappointment. Lyanna tried her best not to wince.

"Your sister is long done with these foolish reckless actions. She is betrothed now. Soon to be married. She has set aside childish things and is now a woman and will compose herself as such … continue to compose herself as such, and honor her family and name as such. There will be no more talk of this. There will not need to be. Because this will never happen again."

Lyanna could feel her face burn as her vision began to blur and she looked away, rightfully ashamed.

"Yes father," she whispered.

Her father said nothing, just kissed her forehead. He turned to Brandon and Eddard.

"Come on then," he said to Brandon and made to leave. He called out to Eddard from over his shoulder. "You'll be accompanying your sister to the joust today yes?"

"Mmm," Ned replied, his chin now resting in his hand as he considered Lyanna.

"What?" his father said as he came to a halt to look at his other son. Ned jumped up out of his seat.

"Yes sir."

"Mmm," their father said as he turned and left the tent as Brandon followed.

Ned turned back around and looked at Lyanna before once more returning to his seat, his elbow resting on his knees and his chin back resting in his hand. Lyanna gave him a disgusted look.

"Oh shut up Ned."

It had been foolish of her to believe her father would not know. What was worse, everything Brandon had said was true and she deserved to be punished. She would almost prefer being whipped over seeing the disappointment in her father's eyes again. She supposed being married off was punishment enough.

Her father had been reluctant to see her betrothed and had no interest when potential suitors were brought up. But one suitor had been particularly determined and now it seemed that her father had resolved that perhaps marriage was the natural course. And in truth, what better choice than Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End? He was handsome and charming and closest friend to her brother Eddard. Tall and imposing, he commanded the attention of every lady in the room and a few of the men as well. Ned had said that he could make friends out of enemies, winning them over without even having to fight. And as for his reputation for … well, there was no way for one to put this delicately … whoring? Every man has been known to go through a phase and this too shall pass, especially once he is married.

There was no reason for her father not to believe this was a good match for his daughter. And it seemed that her actions yesterday confirmed this.

She had joined her family in attending the tourneys that day. They sat in the section reserved for her house, the House Stark banner, emblazoned with a direwolf hung proudly above them. Brandon had competed and had done well too. A larger crowd than normal had turned out this morning. No doubt many hoped to seem some excitement similar to the previous afternoon. But there was none to be had aside from the scheduled events. Brandon moved on to the third day of the joust as was expected and Lyanna wondered who he would crown if he should win the final tilt, especially since no one from House Tully were present.

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was also among the champions that would continue on. Lyanna had watched him as well, although she had moved from the box with her house banner to somewhere along the edge of the seats to watch him compete so as not to draw attention to herself.

She had to admit that he cut quite the impressive figure. She even begrudgingly acknowledged that he had some skill in the saddle. It was difficult not to find oneself cheering for him, her heart racing when he would start the run, her breath catching when he would take a hit. She had become annoyed at that. She did not wish to be like the rest of the ladies who watched liked dewy eyed love sick little girls, hoping to catch the prince's eye. Perhaps she should wave a fan about her face and declare dizziness from the heat too. Hell, why not just walk up and greet him like an old friend and reminisce about the time she sent the King into a paranoid rage? What a feebleminded little git she was becoming. She had left the tourney immediately after that, embarrassed at her behavior.

The audience howled with laughter as the dwarf ran through one of the actress's legs on stage and lifted her skirts. Lyanna fidgeted with her cloak. It was the lightest one she had and even though it was still lined with fur, the evenings cooled rapidly during this false spring. She would more than likely need a heavier one as dusk came on. She wore a simple gray gown that was embroidered with small delicate blue flowers along the hem, collar and sleeves and a thin grey belt engraved with direwolves fastened low around her waist. Her hair hung loose down her back except for two braids that held it back out of her face, although the wayward strand did make an escape here and there. She had no patience for the intricate fashions that many of the ladies of the court wore, preferring to remain true to the styles of the north.

She had tarried long enough anyway. It was not right that she keep Howland and Benjen in the dark as long as she did. They deserved to know what happened seeing as they had risked just as much in helping her.

The audience laughed and cheered as the dwarf ran the actors ragged onstage. Lyanna watched as the man would take on a guise as he talked to one actress and then shed it to take on another guise when the second actress came on stage and the first one left. The dwarf aided him the entire time, distracting the two women and trading masks with the actor. Lyanna arranged her cloak about her shoulders and was about to leave when a voice spoke softly from behind her.

"My lady does not like the performance?"

Lyanna froze mid motion, her eyes going wide. Her head turned slightly towards her shoulder.

"Your … grace?"

"Careful now," he cautioned, "we don't want to distract from the play."

Lyanna quickly looked forward once more, glancing around her to see if anyone had heard. No one had noticed of course, the action on the stage continued to hold the audience attention.

"Why are … what are you doing here?" she whispered as she adjusted her cloak again, making sure her gaze remained on the stage.

"To watch the mummer show of course, like you."

She shot an incredulous look over her shoulder.

"Oh really? And do you often attend the performance dressed that way."

"Only when I do not wish to be accompanied by a full guard and line of attendants."

"Oh, well, I suppose that makes sense … do you also sneak up behind unsuspecting audience members as well?"

"Depends on who's in the audience."

Lyanna began to laugh only to cover it up by clearing her throat.

"My lady did not like her seats for the joust today?"

Lyanna froze once more.

"What?"

"I couldn't help but notice that you left your seat during the joust. I was wondering why you would watch from the sides when your house seats were clearly better."

"I … I was …I didn't … I was leaving. What do you care?" she stammered. Gods I'm pathetic.

"I just noticed you had moved for my run. I thought you might want different seats."

"No, I was leaving. I left. I wasn't there. My seats are fine."

"No, you stood to the side along the edges. Towards the back."

"That wasn't me," she snapped a little louder than she had intended. Lyanna glanced around and spoke again in a whisper. "I wasn't there. Why were you watching me anyway? Shouldn't you be a little more concerned with not getting your head taken off?"

"So you did see," he said pleased. "There were a couple of close calls, weren't there? But I caught him in the end."

"Barely," Lyanna snorted, "you keep leaning to the left like you do and next thing you know you will be the one who's caught."

"I don't lean to the left –"

"Oh yes you do. You got lucky that you figured out that your opponent tilts to the outside for counterbalance before he figured you out."

"You could see that?"

"Any fool could see that! It's a wonder it took you so long to see it."

The prince said nothing and Lyanna began to fear that perhaps she had overstepped herself. She was about to apologize when he spoke again.

"Will you walk with me?"

It was Lyanna's turn to be silent. Without thinking she turned and looked back at him in surprise, fully seeing him. He stood behind her covered in a dark plain cloak, the hood up covering his distinctive hair. Violet eyes met hers. Her traitorous heart began to pound. I am losing my mind, she thought angrily. She turned back around and remembered to breathe. She was not going to go of course. She could not go. She would not go. Brandon would explode.

She was about to tell him as much when she saw him. Just a flash, barely a glimpse, but she knew it was him. Howland had found her and if he saw who she was talking to ….

"Oh bloody hell."

"Is that a yes or …" the prince asked.

"No. I mean yes. I mean, dammit! It's Howland!"

"Howland?"

"My father's banner man. You don't understand. My father knows. My brothers know. They know it was me. They are watching me now. Making sure … if I am seen talking to you …"

"Ah, listen to me. The performers are about to involve the audience. When they stand, just take my hand and follow me, understand?"

Lyanna turned and looked at the prince.

"What?"

"Take my hand."

Lyanna looked down at the hand extended out before her. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She found it fascinating just how easily her hand fit into his. I have completely lost my mind, she thought once more.

The audience roared and rose to their feet shouting as the world around Lyanna began to blur. They weaved their way through the crowd, making their way to the edges of the audience and down the narrow remnants of what was once a hallway. The roar of the crowd was becoming fainter behind them the further they went, the path continuously twisting and turning. They would pass the occasional torch that was not lit, some of them looking as if they had not been lit for some time for they were now black with mold and rotted away. They rounded another corner and came to a large space that opened up to other decayed hallways, stairways and paths that led to other parts of the old tower. The prince moved to the side of the entrance way they had just come through and pressed his back against the wall to listen with Lyanna right next to him, her hand still firmly clasped in his.

They listened intently for a few moments and heard nothing. The prince turned and looked at her with a smile. Lyanna held her breath and covered her mouth with her free hand while stifling a laugh. It did not work. She exhaled into a fit of giggles while the prince laughed right along with her. They stood there staring at each other and laughing for several seconds before their laughter eventually died off to silly grins. They said nothing as they stared at each other for what Lyanna thought was just a moment too long. She had become increasingly aware of her hand in his.

Reluctantly she relaxed her grip on his hand and broke the gaze. She regretted it immediately. Her hand felt empty and meaningless now, as if its entire purpose for being had been snatched away. She moved towards the center of the clearing and began to take in their surroundings.

There was no cover above their heads. The only ceiling above them was the sky that had begun to take on purple and gold hues with the oncoming dusk. The space was large and round and the ruins of what appeared to be a hearth of some sort was set in the middle. Vines of ivy that were dotted with tiny little flowers crawled up and down the walls that were slowly eroding away into piles of rubble. There was wooden scaffolding against one of the walls giving off the illusion that there had once been some interest in a possible restoration. But that thought had most certainly been abandoned for some time for now even the overgrowth had begun to take over the scaffold in its attempt to reach the sun. It reminded Lyanna of stories from when she was a child about magic and fairies and becoming trapped in sort of fey world. But what really took Lyanna's attention was the great ruined tower that loomed over them like the old decayed bones of some giant. Its jagged peaks clawing at the sky.

"Where are we?" she asked staring at the monolith above them.

"I think we are somewhere below the Tower of Ghosts … I think," the prince said as he pushed back the hood of his cloak and looked up to the sky. "It can be hard to tell from down here."

"Tower of Ghosts?"

"Or the Tower of Dread," he mused, "over there is the Wailing Tower." The prince pointed to a second tower just behind the first.

"How do you know?"

"Do you see the long dark fissures running along eastern side," he stood next to Lyanna and pointed, "there and there? They were formed from dragonbreath during Aegon's conquest of Harren the Black."

Lyanna looked at the jagged claw like formations that ran all along the side of the tower. Dragonbreath. Dragonfire. Dragons.

"I guess it's not entirely a bad thing that they are gone."

Rhaegar looked at her.

"What," she shrugged, "they seem to be too powerful a force for anyone person. They have been gone for what? A hundred years?"

"More. Most were lost during the Dance. The last was said to be a deformed, sickly thing. She laid a clutch of about five eggs I believe but none ever hatched."

"Pity," Lyanna laughed, "so tell me more about the eggs in Winterfell. When were they left?"

"During the time of Lord Cregan Stark. Your great, great, great, great grandsire I believe. Give or take a few greats maybe. I am afraid my history is a little vague around here."

"Really?" Lyanna marveled. "What dragon?"

"Vermax laid a clutch when Jacaerys Velaryon was sent to treat with lord Cregan during the Dance of the Dragons. Or at least that is how the story is told."

"And where did you hear this story?"

"Ah, well, a little illegal late night reading." Rhaegar grinned. "There are well known stories accounts by Septon Eustace and then the lesser known stories of Mushroom. Testimony of Mushroom to be precise."

Lyanna sat down on a small chunk of fallen wall. "The Testimony of Mushroom?" she laughed.

"Yes. Not the most reliable accounts but I believe there may be more truth in there than is given credit, in spite of how drunk the author was when he dictated it. It was banned during the time of Baelor and most copies burned. But some survived."

"And you are in the habit of reading the testimonies of known drunkards?"

"I am in the habit of studying all points of view. You would be surprised at how much truth can found in unlikely places."

"Oh I'm sure," Lyanna grinned and shook her head. The crowd from the mummer show could be heard cheering in the distance. The prince looked at her from across the clearing.

"Would you like to return?"

"What?" Lyanna looked up startled.

"Do you want to go back? I realize … I have put you … I fell that I have placed you in an inappropriate position. You and I, here alone. I don't want you to feel, maybe I shouldn't … I forced you to –"

"Forced me? Who forced me? You forced me?"

"Well, I did drag –"

"You dragged me?" Lyanna scoffed. "Are you insinuating that you forced me to come here?"

"I just –"

"Did you not ask me to take your hand? Did I not place my hand into yours? I assure you no one forced me to do anything. Especially not you. As for inappropriate, what is so inappropriate? Why does this have to be inappropriate?"

"I didn't mean –"

"Oh I know what you meant," she snapped. "If we are found then my reputation is ruined and so on. Everyone is so concerned about my fucking reputation. Well I don't bloody well care. If you care so much about your reputation then go on and go. I don't care."

Prince Rhaegar sat across the clearing from her in silence, his face a study in neutrality. But his eyes practically twinkled. Lyanna's eyes however narrowed dangerously.

"I swear on all the old gods and the seven bloody hells, if you laugh I will come over there and strike you in the face, Prince of Dragonstone or no."

The prince mouth pressed together into a thin line as he quickly looked down at his hands. Lyanna folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall and waited.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "I lean to the left do I?"

Lyanna blinked.

"Yes you do. Right before you strike. Back and to the left and then you bear down and lean in. All it would take is the right timing to take you out of your seat."

"Oh? And what would you suggest?"

Lyanna smiled. They spent most of their time talking about riding as the shadows in clearing of ruins grew longer across the ground. Lyanna happily pointed out everything the prince was doing wrong as sat and listened with a slight smile. She did not care if he smiled though. She was confident in her observations and unwavering in her argument. Besides, riding was the one thing she truly loved doing. The only time she truly felt at peace and comfortable in her surroundings. She did not know what exactly she loved more about it, whether it was the subtle unspoken communication between horse and rider or the rush of adrenaline when she opened her mount up to a full run. All she knew was that she could not be stopped. She could be alone.

"Do you like running away?"

Lyanna looked up at the prince, surprised by his question.

"I'm not running away. Well, maybe for a few brief seconds, in my mind perhaps."

"It's alright. One's duty can be a heavy burden at times."

"Oh yes I forgot. You know all about having others make life changing decisions for you."

Lyanna had meant comment to be playful, but the prince merely shrugged.

"From the time I was born others have made decisions for me in the name of what's best for the realm. Everything I do revolves around what is best for king and country. From what I study to who I marry. Music is the only thing that I can say is truly all mine. Everything else, decided on by others and based upon what is best for the realm." It seemed to Lyanna that his posture changed, it was as if his shoulders slumped slightly as he leaned back against the wall and looked up to the sky. "You're very fortunate you know, to have your father. To have the father that you have. To have a father devoted to the well-being of his family. Mine is, well … mine is … easily distracted," he chuckled softly. "But what I do, I do for the realm. Not for myself. I do what is best for the realm."

Lyanna watched him as he spoke, his last comment coming out a bitter whisper. He stood there in the dimming light staring up at the heavens, and she felt as if her heart might break he was so tragically beautiful. It seemed to her that perhaps they were not so different after all.

"If it were easy," she said softly from where she sat, "then everyone would do it."

Rhaegar looked over at her and Lyanna thought the intensity that burned within would consume her. Her chest tightened as her heart quickened and it seemed as if the air between them would ignite as his eyes slowly pulled at her soul. She felt herself almost become dizzy with the overwhelming desire to go over to where he stood and press her lips against his, reputation be damned. And in this moment she did not believe he would stop her. Indeed, she did not think anything could stop her at that moment.

Except for the fact that he is married. The thought scorched its way through her mind.

Lyanna blinked and looked away just as Rhaegar moved away from the wall.

"You know," she said suddenly, "you are not at all how I thought you were."

The prince looked surprised by her statement. His head tilted slightly.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I had always thought you to be a melancholy bookish thing. Or at least that is what I heard," she grinned.

"Really?" he said with a thoughtful frown. "And what about now?"

"Well after today, I am afraid I am going to have to add that you are a pitiful rider to that list as well."

"Well," he said with mock indignation, "I will have you know that I had heard that the women of the North were wilder than the wolves that roamed the godswood there and as tamable as the weather."

"Really!" Lyanna exclaimed with a laugh. "And what about now?"

"I am happy to report that it seems as though neither of us disappoints."

They both laughed now. The prince walked over to where Lyanna sat and offered her his arm.

"The sky is has grown dark my lady and I feel that I should return you to your people. I have stolen you long enough."

Lyanna sighed. No, not long enough, she thought. Not long enough at all.

"I suppose you are right."

She took his arm and they made their way back through the shadows.

The path had become much darker now that the sun had left the sky. There were some areas where Lyanna could not see her hand in front of her face. But she was not frightened. Her hand was secure in the crook of his arm and he was solid and strong and with him she had no fear of the dark places in the world. They walked together in silence in the dark and for Lyanna it was over far too soon. They came to the opening that led back out to where the mummer stage was set. The audience milled about as the cast and crew set the stage for the next play as they would continue to perform well into the early hours of the morning. Rhaegar stopped just short of the entrance and looked at Lyanna.

"You will have to go on alone. I will make my way back through the ruined sept."

Lyanna nodded and turned to go when the prince took her hand.

"My lady … will you be at the joust tomorrow? I thought perhaps you could watch, make sure I don't lean to the left."

Lyanna looked up at him and smiled.

"Yes I will be there. And I would be more than happy to tell you what you are doing wrong," she said with a grin.

He smiled back at her and it seemed to Lyanna as if he had more he wanted to say, as if there were some inner battle going on in his mind and he struggled to find the words.

"Good night Rhaegar," she whispered softly as she gently removed her hand from his.

"Good night Lyanna," he replied and vanished into the shadows.