On the morning of Jon's and Lord Tyrion's departure Lyanna was surprised to find the youngest Lannister waiting for her with a torch in his hand before even the first sunrays had lit the sky.
"Good morning, my lord. Will you break fast with my brother and I this morning? I fear my sisters are still sleeping."
"I will be eating with my own brother. I am merely here to give you a gift before I depart, should circumstances change and delay my return to King's Landing, and force me to miss your wedding. As you Starks seems so fond of saying "winter is coming" and I fear my journey might take longer than expected."
"And what kind of gift can you give me to buy my forgiveness for future transgressions? For I am not sure if I can forgive my new brother should he not be there to welcome me on my wedding day." She quipped.
"I could think of only one worthy of your skill and beauty." He said, grinning up at her, before handing her a small silk-wrapped gift. Hidden under the fine red silk was a dagger, more beautiful than any she had ever seen. Though more the hilt of the blade that captured her eyes than the blade itself. It was as black as onyx, polished smooth, and in the darkness it seemed to almost shimmer in the light of Tyrion's torch. It called to her. She had only seen or felt anything like it before once, her late aunt's broach.
"The blade is the finest Valyrian steel," Tyrion told her with a small smile, as she looked at him with wide eyes. "and the hilt is dragonbone. Lannisters have only the best, my dearest sister. We are worth nothing less. Remember that."
The days that followed were quiet ones, Lyanna barely spoke to anyone. It was as if a part of her had been ripped off, she wasn't in pain exactly… it was just odd. She had heard knights talking about phantom limbs, the body would not accept what the mind already knew. The feeling that the arm was still there even though it was not. That was the closest she could think of to describe his absence. The longest she had ever been away from her twin brother was three days. That had been beaten by many days now, and while she knew it was only a few days left on the King's road, she knew it would be years before she would be home. Years before she would see her brother again.
"Lady Lyanna." The King called her name. Reluctantly the she forced herself to turn to look at him. "Your brother is doing a noble thing. The Night Watch keeps the realm safe."
"Thank you, your grace." She forced a smile.
"You do him no honor by being as you are now. I miss your laughter." She did not know she had ever heard it. "It has been easing the journey for all of us when we have heard it. Cheer up. You are to wed soon." He added pointing to Ser Jaime with his chin as he spoke. "A Lannister of all things, it will be a grand wedding. We will have in the castle, in the throne room. Maybe a tournament in honor of the wedding and your father's appointment."
"That is most kind of you." She said, though she could not bring forth the light happy tone he was looking for. It almost made her feel guilty, she could only imagine the joy Sansa would have felt at such news. The joy any proper lady would. But despite riding side by side with the King, she was not a proper lady; she was a bastard. She had imagined a small wedding, should she ever have one. The one that the king was describing had never crossed her mind and did not bring any joyous childhood fantasies to the surface as she expected he had thought it would. But she tried to give the impression of excitement for his effort. She must have failed miserably since he looked at her husband-to-be with a distasteful look in his eyes. "You deserve a honorable man, not that."
"Robert." He father interrupted before Lyanna could say anything, though she had felt her temper spark at his words. Not in defense of Jaime precisely, just anger. "Not now."
"Right." He agreed, glancing back at the woman that could have been the twin of his once intended. They had the same long wavy dark hair, he longed to draw his fingers through the dark mass, as he had once longed for hers. She had her fair skin, her cheekbones, she had even been blessed with the same dimples when she smiled, truly smiled. If she had had the same eyes the other bastard had he would have sworn it was the same woman, that she was his Lyanna. But she did not, her eyes were a familiar lilac he could not place, probably her mother's. He must have seen her when she was with his friend all those years ago without knowing who she was. He mentally shook himself back to the present and smiled apologetically at her. "He will make a good husband, I will make sure of that."
"With all due respect, your grace. I-" Lyanna said, a hint of defiance in her tone that worried her father. Whether Robert would agree or not, Lyanna had the same temper as her namesake. But as luck would have it the King had not sparked it until now, and if luck held he would disregard it as he had done Lyanna Stark's in their youth.
"Lyanna!" Her father warned, interrupting her before she could finish.
"Let her speak, Ned." The King said, but the look her father gave her made her bite her lips as she replied.
"I am curious, your grace. You claim I would have a husband worthy of my father's house, yet you seem to have no respect for the man you chose."
"He is the Kingslayer. He deserves no respect."
"He is the slayer of a mad king, your grace, one you yourself found unfit for the throne. One that burned people alive, laughing as he did so. We do not know the whole story, only the mad king and Ser Jaime knows what truly happened."
"He broke his oath."
"Yet you trust him to guard your back, and you wed his sister."
"Enough, Lyanna." This time her father's voice left no room for argument.
"I apologize, I went to far. Forgive me, your grace."
"You want to see the best in people, like Lyanna did. You did only what I know your aunt did for me. You are a good woman. Your father raised you well."
"Thank you."
"We will stop early today. I need to stretch my legs. There is a little town a little west of here. We can sleep there." The King said no more than an hour later as they reached a large field. As they uncounted their horses the King spoke again and though his eyes were not on her, but on the small creek that ran through the field, his words made it clear to whom he spoke "That creek is where I slayed the man who took your aunt. This is where I avenged her and gained my crown." He looked at her then. "I would rather have had her. You would have been my niece, and trueborn or not, you shall be treated as if you are."
Later one of the knights suggested a hunt being held in honor of the King's memorable victory, something the King had been all to keen on agreeing with. The following morning at dawn her father had rode with the King and his chosen men for the hunt, apparently the area was famed for its aurochs, leaving Lyanna with only her sisters, or rather sister, to break fast with that morning.
"I've never seen an aurochs," Sansa commented, feeding a piece of bacon to her direwolf under the table. Lady took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen. Night was far from as careful, thankfully Septa had not seen, or perhaps he had simply written Lyanna off as a lost cause a long time ago. She had taken to ignore her most of the time a long time ago, much like Lady Stark did. She did however see Sansa's actions and sniffed in disapproval.
"A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table," she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.
"She's not a dog, she's a direwolf," Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. "Anyway, Father said we could keep them with us if we want."
Septa was not appeased. "You're a good girl, Sansa, but I do vow, when it comes to that creature you're as willful as your sister Arya." She scowled. "And where is Arya this morning?"
"She wasn't hungry," Sansa said, knowing full well that their sister had probably stolen something in the kitchen hours ago or wheedled a breakfast out of some cook's boy.
"Do remind her to dress nicely today. The grey velvet, perhaps. We are all invited to ride with the queen and Princess Myrcella in the royal wheelhouse, and we must look our best."
Sansa already looked her best. She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone, and picked her nicest blue silks. She had been looking forward to today for more than a week. It was a great honor to ride with the queen. But as Septa reluctantly added Lyanna's name to the list of people who would be in the carriage both Lyanna and Sansa looked back at the woman in surprise.
"What? No, I can't ride with the Queen."
"You have ridden with the King, and you are marrying her brother. It seems to be enough, she requested your presence in particular last night. You will go and you will act like a lady."
"The Queen's carriage does not have any windows, I will be ill."
"You will not. Sansa, would you help your half-sister to find something suitable to wear? Her riding dresses will not do." She nodded.
Sansa knew Lyana's new, more south friendly, wardrobe better than Lyanna herself, having gladly accepted the responsibility for it at the seamstress'. Without much ado she placed a red silk dress in front of her, it was close enough in color to Lannister red to note, but not close enough to possibly offend. She was not a Lannister yet. While it was too nice for travelling in Lyanna's opinion her sister had quickly assured her it was not, not if she was travelling with the queen.
After that Sansa had gone to find their youngest sister and left Lyanna to get ready in the company of two maids who travelled with them. Lyanna wished she could have gone with her if just to see how this confrontation would go, not well she expected. Just the day before Arya had come back grinning, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa had been horrified, Lyanna had silently laughed, and their father had hugged and thanked the girl. Combined with the things she had gotten up to before that Lyanna almost felt sympathetic towards her sister who so tirelessly tried to impress her intended. A task she had often attempted to convince Lyanna to join her in. But Lyanna had little interest in impressing her intended.
Sir Jaime was suitably impressed, or rather amused, by her and seemed to have no great dislike towards her or their pending marriage. That was all she cared to know. She would get to know her husband in due time, it was inevitable.
When Sansa retuned, declaring their younger sister a lost cause, they made their way to the center of camp. A crowd had gathered around the queen's wheelhouse. They heard excited voices buzzing like a hive of bees. The doors had been thrown open, and the queen stood at the top of the wooden steps, smiling down at someone, speaking,
"The council does us great honor, my good lords."
"What's happening?" Lyanna asked a squire she knew, one of their father's.
"The council sent riders from King's Landing to escort us the rest of the way," he told her. "An honor guard for the king."
Anxious to see, Sansa let Lady clear a path through the crowd. Lyanna and Night followed. People moved aside hastily for the direwolves. When they got closer, Lyanna saw two knights kneeling before the queen, in armor so fine and polished that it made her blink.
One knight wore an intricate suit of white enameled scales, brilliant as a field of new-fallen snow, with silver chasings and clasps that glittered in the sun. When he removed his helm, Lyanna saw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armor, yet he seemed strong and graceful for all that. From his shoulders hung the pure white cloak of the Kingsguard. Lyanna knew immediately who he was from their father's tales.
His companion was a man near twenty whose armor was steel plate of a deep forest-green. Cradled under one arm was an antlered helm, its magnificent rack shimmering in gold. The third man did not kneel with the others. He stood to one side, beside their horses, a gaunt grim man who watched the proceedings in silence. His face was pockmarked and beardless, with deep-set eyes and hollow cheeks. Though he was not an old man, only a few wisps of hair remained to him, sprouting above his ears, but those he had grown long as a woman's. His armor was iron-grey chainmail over layers of boiled leather, plain and unadorned, and it spoke of age and hard use. Above his right shoulder the stained leather hilt of the blade strapped to his back was visible; a two-handed great sword, too long to be worn at his side. She wondered who he was.
"The king is gone hunting, but I know he will be pleased to see you when he returns," the queen was saying to the two knights who knelt before her, but Lyanna noted that Sansa seemed to have forgotten her prince and could not take her eyes off the third man. He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze, for slowly he turned his head toward them. The two direwolves both growled, and Sansa stepped backward and bumped into someone, Sandor Clegane, his mouth twisted in a terrible mockery of a smile. "You are shaking, girl," he said, his voice rasping. "Do I frighten you so much?"
Sansa wrenched away from him, and the Hound laughed, and Lady moved between them, rumbling a warning. Sansa dropped to her knees to wrap her arms around the wolf. They were all gathered around gaping at the scene, she could feel their eyes on her, and here and there she heard muttered comments and titters of laughter.
"Wolves," a man said, and someone else said, "Seven hells, they're direwolves," and the first man said, "What are they doing in camp?" and the Hound's rasping voice replied before Lyanna could, though her arms had gone protectively around Night as she saw the men raise their swords. "The Starks use them for wet nurses,"
It was first then Sansa seemed to realize that the two stranger knights were looking at her, and Lady as well. Tears were filling her eyes and she wanted to tell them to lower their weapons. But apparently she was not alone in her desire. The Queen had seen it too, and seconds later Lyanna heard the queen say, "Joffrey, go to her." And her prince was there.
"Leave her alone," Joffrey said to the knights. He stood over her, and drew her to her feet. "What is it, sweet lady? Why are you afraid? No one will hurt you. Put away your swords, all of you. The wolf is her little pet, that's all." He looked at Sandor Clegane. "And you, dog, away with you, you're scaring my betrothed."
The Hound, ever faithful, bowed and slid away quietly through the press. Sansa struggled to steady herself. "It was not him, my sweet prince," she tried to explain. "It was the other one."
The two stranger knights exchanged a look. "Payne?" chuckled the young man in the green armor. The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. "Often times Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect."
"As well he should." The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. "If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in the office."
Sansa finally found her words. "Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace," she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her.
"Well spoken, child," said the old man in white. "As befits the daughter of Eddard Stark. I am honored to know you, however irregular the manner of our meeting. I am Ser Barristan Selmy, of the Kingsguard." He bowed.
Sansa knew the name, and curtsy. "The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," she said, "and councilor to Robert our king and to Aerys Targaryen before him. The honor is mine, good knight. Even in the far north, the singers praise the deeds of Barristan the Bold. I am Sansa Stark, and this is my half-sister, Lyanna Snow."
The old knight was half way into his bow before his eyes caught Lyanna's and he froze. It was as if her eyes had transfixed him, and all he could do was stare. There was no mistaking those eyes, those dark lilac eyes. However the green knight stopped him from saying a word as he laughed and stepped forward.
"A true northern rose, you seem to have silenced even Sir Barristan" He said, "I see why my brother has become so captivated by you, I am Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and councilor to the king. At your service." He bowed. "My brother informs me, we are to hold your wedding to Ser Jaime Lannister at the Red-keep in a months time. He has been gifted a rare beauty."
"Sansa," the Queen interrupted, reclaiming everyone's attention "the good councilors and I must speak together until the king returns with your father. I fear we shall have to postpone your day with Myrcella. Please give your sweet younger sister my apologies. Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guest today."
"It would be my pleasure, Mother," Joffrey said very formally. He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse. Lyanna watched them go, but was unsure of what to do with herself, as they queen had only dismissed her sisters, not her. Her plight was sort lived however as the Queen called her to her side.
"Perhaps I can still claim you time, dear Lyanna, will you join us? I tire so of being surrounded by only men folk."
"You honor me, my Queen."
TBC…
