a short chapter this time. sorry about that. hope you enjoy. please feel free to review

~oOo~

Lyanna sat very still as she stared at the small wreath of blue winter roses that rested on the table before her, still in a semi state of shock from the events that played out earlier in the day. Somewhere else in the tent, her brother Brandon raged to her gather but she was only vaguely aware. Her father had not attended that the final tilt that morn. Instead he had prepared to leave that day for Riverrun, intending to meet with lord Hoster Tully over the impending nuptials between Brandon and Catelyn Tully. But now he sat at the end of the long table in his tents, studying the small crown of roses almost as intently as Lyanna, and listened as Brandon railed against the affront to House Stark's honor.

She had been startled when the prince had presented her with the crown. She had been stunned when he set it in her lap when she could not move. She had been in a state of shock as she picked up the circle of blue roses, staring at it wide eyed. But that wore off quickly.

A sea of eyes now stared at her where she sat. A low murmur began to hum through the crowd and she could hear her name among the whispers. She had become painfully aware of the silent accusations within the eyes that were now keenly focused in on her. Ned was as well. He had placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Let's go," he said as he stood her up and led her out of the seats with Benjen close behind.

They moved at a brusque pace back to their tents.

Lyanna would hear later that Robert had laughed and declared that this was not surprising. Lyanna was by far the fairest maiden here and the prince was simply paying her due. But Ned would later tell her that in truth, Robert had quietly fumed, furious at the implications of the prince's actions. Ned did not believe that relations would ever be the same between those two houses from this. But while Robert had surprisingly kept his peace while in public, Brandon did not.

"We can't just stand by and allow such an insult, he shouted. Prince of Dragonstone or no, we can't allow such a slight. He has insulted her honor! Your daughter, my sister! What the hells is he trying to say? I'll run him through for this. I would have run him through at the tourney with the gods and that gnarled old excuse of a king as witness if not for Kyle and Elbert holding me back!"

"Hold your tongue. We are not –"

"I will not hold my tongue! Not for this! Not for what he has done! Has called her honor into question. Do you know what is being said? The vile filth and comments that is passing though the other houses? She has done nothing to deserve this yet she is the one who is being dragged through the muck while he sits safe in his tower. And you do nothing. You would have me sit here and do nothing –"

Her father's hand came down on the table with a deafening thud causing the tent to fall into silence as everyone jumped at the sound.

"You forget who you are talking to boy. It is for me to decide what you will do. And what you will do is hold your tongue. What you will do is compose yourself. What you will do is act like the lord you will one day become but aren't yet!"

Brandon's mouth had become a thin tight line and his spine stiffened as their father spoke. The muscle in his jaw fluttered as his teeth clenched, but he said nothing. It was Ned who spoke up next in that quiet cautious way of his.

"But Brandon is right father. What else could this be taken as other than a question of her honor. Why, right now the other Houses are saying –

"I don't give a damn what the other Houses are saying and neither will you. Bloody Southron Houses and their bloody Great Game, an elaborate practice in nothing but idle gossip. We are of the North and we don't take part in their petty shit. No House of the North questions her honor. Nor will they."

Her father pinched the space between his eyes and sighed.

"Gods I hate the south," he muttered. Dropping his hand to his side he walked over to where Lyanna sat and placed a hand to the side of her face as she looked up at him. His eyes showed nothing but concern and not a hint of suspicion or doubt to her innocence. Why would he? He looked down at her and gave her a gently smile, a loving smile, a trusting smile.

Lyanna had nothing but contempt for herself in that moment.

"Gather your things, all of you," he finally said. "Just enough to travel. You are all coming with me to Riverrun. Willem!" A young man appeared through the flaps of the tent. "You will see to the striking of the tents and the return of the main encampment. We however, will leave within the hour."

This brought a carefully controlled objection from Brandon.

"But the final feast is tonight," he objected. "If we leave then that will only give credence to this slander. We will be seen as cowards. We …"

Their father turned and looked at Brandon who stopped talking.

"Within the hour," he repeated. This time there was no argument.

Brandon left immediately while their father called for a groomsman to prepare their horses as all of his children would now be riding out as well. Ned walked over to where Lyanna sat.

"Are you alright?"

Lyanna nodded yes but said nothing.

"You didn't do anything wrong you know," he reassured. "None of this is your fault. You bear no shame from this, Brandon won't allow it. I won't allow it."

Lyanna nodded but still said nothing.

Ned placed a hand on her shoulder before leaving the tent. Lyanna looked up to see Benjen staring at her from across the tent. She had not even realized he was there, so uncharacteristically quiet he was. He stared at her fixedly and it seemed to Lyanna that he may speak and so she waited. She waited to finally hear someone question her innocence. To call for testimony to her guilt. To finally demand to know the truth. But Ben said nothing and after a moment he too left the tent.

Lyanna sat alone in the tent, the crown of roses seemed to stare back at with silent accusations. She stood up and walked over to the table. The guilt she bore weighed and gnawed at her soul. She would wear her guilt like a shroud about her. She deserved to suffer for what she had done, for what she was now putting her family through. She would suffer through the pain of the lies she allowed her family to believe. She was a base, vile, lowly thing for her lies. She deserved this shame, every bit of it.

She reached down to the wreath on the table and worked a small blue rose free.

She felt terrible over what she had done. Brandon could be taken to the king for treason for the things he has said. Ned had stated his willingness to call out the prince as well to defend her honor. And poor sweet Benjen who had some idea of the truth and yet still said nothing, making him complicit in her guilt. A burden he did not deserve.

Lyanna held the bloom close to her face and took in the sweet fragrance.

She should be drowning in her guilt. She should suffocate beneath the weight of her lie.

Lyanna closed her eyes as she pressed the rose to her chest, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

~oOo~

Arthur stood upon one of the smaller guard towers along the decrepit walls of Harrenhall and watched as a party of riders rode out from the main encampment westward. It was not a large group. Two bannermen and a small contingent of guards rode alongside five other riders, and yet large enough. She was with them, this Lyanna Stark of Winterfell.

Lord Stark had been wise to take her from here. He had been wise to take them all from here. Arthur had heard the comments of Brandon Stark. It had taken several of his companions to hold him back from physically confronting the prince. Arthur should have taken him for threats against the crown. Fortunately for the young lord, there were unknown mitigating circumstances that stayed Arthur's hand. One of them being that Arthur agreed with him.

He could not begin to guess what could have inspired Rhaegar to do something like this. Certainly not this northern girl. She was pretty yes, but he had to have some idea as to how it would look. Not to mention the position it put the girl and her family in. It was unlike him to act in this manner, at the same time he felt he should have known. He should have seen this coming.

The princess had handled it with characteristic grace and decorum but even Arthur could see the pain in her eyes. She had left the tilt almost as quickly as the Stark girl did.

No, it was not like Rheagar to do something like this. Not at all.

The sound of footsteps behind him and the soft ringing of chainmail alerted him to another's presence. He did not turn, he did not have too. He knew the sound of the steps for all of the members of the kingsguard. Ser Oswell Whent walked up alongside of Arthur and leaned against the falling ramparts. He looked out at the departing party.

"Lord Rikard has left for Riverrun. His people are tearing down the rest of the encampment and will leave in the morning." He squinted into the sun. "That them then?"

"Aye."

"She with them?"

"Aye."

Oswell sucked the air between his teeth. "Well, that should go over well."

Arthur glanced at Oswell from the corner of his eye. "Mmm."

"Just what happened today Arthur."

"I cannot say Oswell," Arthur sighed, "because I am not certain myself."

"Oh, well that bodes well," Oswell murmured.

"He is not himself Oswell. His mind is far afield, more so than ever before I believe. He has not confided in me as he has done in the past, not yet at least. And I am not of a mind to push him."

"Oh don't give me your sanctimonious shit Arthur. You know something. I thought he wished me to talk Walter into having a tourney so he could meet with the high lords. Not so he could put to question some little northern girls honor."

"Take care," Arthur warned, giving Oswell a cold look, "this is your prince you refer to, and my friend. Your friend too last I remember. Do you really believe that was his intent?"

"Of course not," Oswell snapped back, "but her people certainly do. And rightfully so. Do you not agree?" Oswell nodded when Arthur did not answer. "That is what I thought. What is it then? Just what is in his head? You must have some idea."

Arthur let out a slow breath as he looked away. He leaned up against the wall as he rubbed at his temples. After a moment he dropped his hands to his sides and looked at Oswell.

"Love."

Oswell blinked. "Love?" He said in disbelief. "Has he forgotten he is married?"

Arthur gave him a flat look. "I assure you he has not."

"Can you?" Oswell snorted. "You seem rather uncertain about everything else." Oswell looked out over the wall in the direction where they last saw the party of riders. "Love eh? Well lets hope he'll write a couple of songs and get it out of his system …" Oswell stopped talking and turned to Arthur, his eyes wide with a sudden realization. "He's not going to drag us to fucking Summerhall after this, is he? I fucking hate that place. You know I fucking hate that place. Oh fucking hells, we are going to have to go to fucking Summerhall."

Arthur shook his head as his friend buried his face in his hands as he leaned against the wall. Arthur hoped that Oswell was right. That Rhaegar would take them Summerhall and write a couple of songs. He prayed to the seven that it would be as simple as that.

~oOo~

Rhaegar sat alone in his room and stared into the dying fire before him. He should stir it, he should get up and breathe life back into the flames. Instead he did nothing. Only sat and gazed into the fading embers.

He was pathetic.

Arthur had come to him earlier to inform him that she had left with her brothers and father. It was believed they were on their way to Riverrun. Although he did not say it, Rhaegar knew that Arthur did not approve of his actions at the tilt today. Even though it had never been his intent, Lyanna's honor was now being questioned and Elia, well, he had laid a grave insult at her feet as well. She had said nothing to him and more than likely would not, even though he deserved it. She had every right to hate him. Every right call him out, to curse him. But that was not her way. And that only made him feel worse.

He wished he could explain to her why. He wished he could bear this pain alone, and not subject these women to his selfishness. But he could not. He could not continue the lie when the truth burned fierce in his heart. The next time he would see her she would most likely no longer be Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. She would be Lady Lyanna Baratheon of Storm's End. This truth tore at his being and he could not let her leave without her knowing.

It was a selfish, petty, childish thing for him to do. Perhaps he was going mad.

He hoped that Elia would never forgive him.

Rhaegar heard the latch on the great door release as it opened and closed. He listened as soft footsteps lightly echoed through room till they came to a stop beside him.

Rhaegar did not look up. He was a pitiful coward. After a moment they took a seat next to him in front of the fire.

"I do not mean to disturb you my prince …"

Rhaegar turned his head in her direction but did not look up at her face.

"You would never disturb me Elia. You may enter whenever you feel."

His voice sounded hollow and empty to his ears. They both sat staring at the fire for a moment.

"I had hoped you would dine with us this night," she said in her soft Dornish lilt.

"Forgive me. I was not hungry."

Silence descended once more between them. Rhaegar hated the quiet. She deserved an explanation, an apology at the very least. But he could say nothing. He could give her nothing. He was not worthy of her love and wished she would tell him so at the top of her lungs. After a moment Elia stood up.

"Forgive me my prince, I can see that you wish to be alone and so I will take my leave. But there is something I must tell you …"

Rhaegar turned his head once more in her direction, still too much of a coward to look her in the eye.

"I am with child Rhaegar."

Rhaegar looked up at her now, his eyes wide. Elia looked at him, waif thin and lovely in the dying light. She stared at him, her dark eyes unaccusing, wide and hopeful. Rhaegar stood up slowly and walked over to where she stood, taking her face in his hands.

Rhaenys birth had taken a harsh toll on her. The risks would be great if it came to a second.

"Are you certain?"

She smiled. "Two moons in," she replied.

Rhaegar pulled her into an embrace.

"Oh Elia," he whispered.