Chapter Two

The preferred means of instruction in the Citadel were open-door lectures that were posted at the base of the twin sphinx statues flanking the main gates. Novices were allowed to slip in and out as they pleased, though the more popular lectures could descend into standing room only, and to bring whichever writing implements they had. This was of significant advantage to the wealthier students. A few of the instructors spoke so rapidly and without any inclination to repeat former lessons on future lectures, that the only means Lyarra had to comprehend them were to scribble lines down until her hands ached.

She was simply grateful that Robb continued to dutifully send most of his allowance to her, as well as her own once Father discovered that his eldest son knew of her whereabouts but refused to reveal it, and that it was enough to stock up on parchment and quills here. The costs were defrayed a bit by the Citadel itself, especially on tourney moons, when students were expected to stock up and use their supplies to lend out services in the Scribe's Hearth. Reading and writing letters for the smallfolk of Oldtown was a decent way to earn some extra coin too.

Lyle hadn't done that for nearly ten moons now. Her time here was precious and limited. Even now there was a visible swell to her chest that had to be bound down and covered in a loose shirt to hide. Her features had left the androgynous prettiness of her youth to sharpen into a beauty that Lyle would have appreciated more had she desired a husband and children as most women did. Her moon's blood had been a complete horror. If it wasn't well-known that the Northern bastard liked to keep swollen leeches in her room to study- and she may or may not have implied that she was of a cadet branch of House Bolton- than there'd be more curiosity to the streaks of blood she'd overlooked on her blanket.

Flowering, Lyle maintained, was an indignity and an affront against the female sex. If Robb had to stuff as many fresh rags between his legs as she did, he'd be in far less of a hurry to grow up. As it was, her brother boasted happily of the thin wisps of hair found on his chin recently. The dark-haired girl regretted that she wasn't in Winterfell now because the sight of her brother's recent pride and joy would undoubtedly have led her to uncontrollable peals of laughter.

'Soon though. I'll return home soon,' Lyle reminded herself with a small smile.

Students were allowed time off during set periods of the year but the dark-haired girl couldn't risk returning to Winterfell and not being able to return. Instead most of her breaks were spent immersed in the library, copying texts that she knew her home lacked, particularly recent treatises on foreign lands. The sole exception was when Alleras dragged her to Sunspear. She hadn't a chance to meet the infamous Viper then but two of her friend's sisters and a royal cousin ended up in her bed somehow. All were failed attempts at seduction but Nymeria insisted on returning several nights thereafter. Turned out she was a cuddler and Lyarra was a Northern child raised on bundling that was happy to indulge her new friend.

"Lyle! Over here!" The husky voice of her best friend called from across the room. Violet eyes scanned the row of benches over to find that Alleras had set up literally one seat away from a boy with familiar ash-blonde hair. She tried not to roll her eyes in fond exasperation as she approached them. "I saved you a seat."

"Thanks." Lyle sat down and since today her canvas bag was full of parchment rolls and brand new ink bottles, she chose to be generous. To Alleras at least. Craning her head back, she flashed a bright grin at the handsome nobleman with a rose-shaped jade brooch holding his cloak in place. "Hello, Leo!"

"Snow," Leo Tyrell noted hesitantly. To her surprise, the boy awkwardly nodded back and then looked forward in clear dismissal of the two.

"Well, colour me surprised," Alleras muttered under breath, "Who pulled the stick out of his ass?"

"Does it matter? The jape was growing old anyway."

"Just didn't think talent like that existed outside of Dorne. I'd like to find the lady that led to this."

"Look for the whore eating nothing but roasted quail and honey-basted auroch for the next fortnight," Lyle recommended. She took out the first scroll atop the pile and unfurled it to reveal a detailed anatomical drawing, her practically tiny writing scribbled all over the margins in cramped script. Taking out a snow shrike feather, she added the date and heading of the current lesson: Topical Pastes from Dorne. "Don't you know everything on this topic already?"

Alleras shrugged but she was reclining backwards to the wooden slats supporting them instead of leaning forward, elbows askew and eyes trying to skew the lecturer into submission, as was common. "I'll look over your notes tonight if you'd like?"

"In exchange for…?"

"Honeycomb cakes." Alleras shot her a crooked little grin. "I'd offer to make dinner instead but…"

"I'll handle it!" To be fair, the Summer Islander wasn't an awful cook by nature. She could follow the instructions well enough. She simply lacked the patience to wait between steps. Often enough, Alleras picked up a book and immersed herself in it as their dinner turned to sludge or, in one memorable case, set the curtains aflame. "Do you still have your old lecture notes for geology?"

Amber-toned eyes turned to regard her with surprise. "I do but weren't you aiming for silver next?"

"It won't take too long. I'm more or less ready for the exam but I held it back to reach Maester Gormon's high standards. Might as well tackle pewter, at least until Maester Marwyn comes back."

Alleras' expression bespoke caution, so Lyle dropped that line of conversation for Archmaester Yalom's approach. The man's wooden half-mask, carved with the silver inlay of his mastery of healing, shook as the wide-shouldered man sneezed. He was a jolly individual who insisted on exchanging a number of banalities before the lesson could begin. As Yalom did so, she considered briefly the glass candle hidden inside her apartment room and lamented once again that she had the wretched curiosity and impractical survival sense of her youngest brother. One day, those risks were going to get her killed.

The next two hours seemed to drag on, no matter how much enthusiasm Archmaester Yalom interjected to his tone. Lyle sprinkled a pinch of coarse sand atop her notes, the drawstring pouch attached to her waist jangling as the man winded to a close. It was with half an ear that she took in the final admonishments to tear caps off the Saltpan Mushrooms before grinding them into the paste lest she be left with a watery substance that couldn't be topically applied to the patient. It wasn't a bad lecture by any means but her heart wasn't in the lesson today.

'Why do the days seem to crawl by recently?' Lyle shrugged her satchel on and considered that perhaps her melancholy could be traced to the sense that her peaceful days of studies were to come to an end. Time marched ceaselessly forward, her body was even now starting to betray her and the foremost links that she came to earn had almost all been acquired. Since Lyle didn't intend to hold vigil to become a full-fledged maester- though she'd definitely be able to keep the vow on never siring children- there wouldn't be much else for her to do here. 'But what comes next?'

'I don't want to stay in the dark, empty halls of my childhood home,' Lyle admitted, a shred of guilt slithering around her heart at the silent confession. 'I don't want to take a husband and run his home and raise his children. I don't want to be Lyarra Snow anymore.'

Lyarra Snow was a pretty little doll to be sold off to the highest-ranking man that could accept a bastard for a bride. Lyarra Snow was the only stain on her father's otherwise impeccable reputation of honor. Lyarra Snow was meek and obedient and well-behaved and kept her head down in her own home when noble guests visited. Lyarra Snow didn't have any friends, didn't dream of any future. She didn't like being Lyarra Snow.

"Snow? Snow? Snow!" It took a shove to her side, to draw her head up. "Snow, dammit! Lyle?"

"Leo?" She shook her head when Alleras lingered by their seats and her friend walked away, leaving her to sit patiently, back straight and hands folded properly in her lap. A moment later, her body slumped a bit, hands drifting to her sides, when Lyle remembered that she didn't need to sit like a lady now. "What is it?"

"I wanted to discuss a business offer with you." The ash-blonde boy gestured towards the door. "Walk with me."

Lyle's eyebrows rose. "I don't need to make any gold now."

"Nonsense. Everyone likes to have a little extra coin lying around," Leo smirked. He followed the procession of students walking outside and she followed at a matching pace, if only because it was the easiest route back out to the city. It was another one of those perfect Reach spring days. "Even a pretty-faced teacher's pet like you must want to visit a brothel or two."

"I don't need coin to get a woman to my bed, thanks." Mostly because Alleras' bed was piled high with mountains of books, scrolls, laundry, rock collections and who knows what else that would bury them alive one day. They ended up sharing her cot most nights.

"Wine, textiles, weapons, theatre, there must be something you desire!" Leo took one look at her amused quirk of lips and just shook his head sadly. "Alright, books then. But you've given a bad name to every hot-blooded man in Westeros for this, Lyle."

"I'm a Snow, my veins run with ice," she quipped, veering off the main path to one that would lead to a spice merchant's stall. She'd need nutmeg for those honeycomb cakes. Leo followed. "Why me?"

"You took Uncle Gormon's economics exam and passed, didn't you?" That rhetorical question was followed by the boy darting in front of her, forcing her to stop walking. "He includes calculations to measure the odds of this or that number, doesn't he? Well, I need a master of probability to run a few games of chance for me."

"...A gambling ring," Lyle stated flatly. "One that's illegal to run by the way. The Highgardens have a monopoly on all tourney bets. They'd fine you heavily for this. Maybe even a night in the stockades."

"Nah, they wouldn't go that far for a Tyrell," Leo grinned. "I had a little chat with the Head of the City Guard. An old friend of my father's from Highgarden, you know. For a small cut of the profits, he's willing to look the other way and black market bets are-"

"-distasteful to say the least?" The dark-haired scholar scowled, stepping around him to continue walking. "You'll be running bets on how many people will die or be seriously injured? The number of intermissions to wash blood off the field? Duels, disgraces and dishonored maidens?"

"Hey, they're clean bets! All of those awful things will happen anyway, you won't be influencing it one way or another. Besides I'll take the archery, jousts and races. I just need someone to fill in for me when the melee happens," the ash-blonde boy waved his hand errantly. "I'll pay you well. Fifteen dragons to do it, an advance of ten and five more when the job is done."

She stumbled a bit on the relatively flat path and Leo must have been expecting it because the noble boy's hand flashed out to grab the back of her tunic. Tugging Lyle's body straight, he smugly pulled her to the side of the road again. "Think about it Snow. That's not a bad haul for a few hour's work."

"Again, why me?" Lyle repeated bewildered. "You have friends, Tyrell, that'll jump on this chance."

"Because you're smart and you're honest," was the matter-of-fact answer. "I've been doing this for a while now and it just takes one bad bet to ruin your reputation with these folks forever. You're too clever to get caught and if you do, you're not the type to snitch. And I've seen you outpace a skylark's flight whenever Sphinx gets that gleam in his eye."

"You see it too?" She stalled for time as she turned over the words in her head. Any compliments were disregarded entirely, the boy was a rose and they all spoke prettily in the Citadel. Archmaester Gormon was charming too when he wasn't shredding newday novices to tears. Lyle wasn't one to engage in illegalities often either, her entire charade as a man aside. But fifteen gold pieces was not nothing. And no matter which path she chose to take in life, that extra gold would always help.

Lyle mentally returned to the conversation to find that Leo had gotten into a minor rant on the many faults comprised in her best friend, chief amongst them Alleras' inner glee in tormenting him. Not particularly interested in a litany of pranks attributed to the dusk-skinned Acolyte- though, to be fair, a number of them had been Alleras' fault- Lyle cut in. "Okay."

Leo blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay, I'll handle the melee bets," she clarified. "I've never done anything like this before, so you'll need to give me a rundown of first. If there are any special tools needed, you'll be covering them. And I want my gold by tomorrow."

The ash-blonde Tyrell smirked again. "I knew you'd come around."

After a brief summary that made Lyle wonder whether or not she'd come to regret this, the boy turned to leave. Or at least she assumed he was to do so before he paused and looked back. The expression on his face was… almost bashful? "You know, Lyle, you wouldn't coin to get a man to come to your bed either."

He left quickly thereafter. Lyle was left certain that she did in fact regret this. 'Did… did that just happen?'

x

I imagine Lyarra's male self to look like Yoon Eun Hye from Coffee Shop Prince.

Lyle Snow: i. pinimg originals /b1/b7/d1/