Of White Trees and Blue Roses
I own nothing. This all belongs to GRRM, and I'm just playing with the story he gave us.
~X~
Chapter Seven – Admiration and Anticipation
"I found it in the moat. Look, it has less rust spots and is newer than the one we already have."
Lyanna took the tourney sword from Benjen and inspected it. He was right—it was in better condition than the scrap metal he had paid good coin for, yet she still had to shake her head at the fact that a thrown away sword was better than most of what they'd managed to scavenge.
Having a moment of hesitation, Lyanna wondered if letting Ben enter the tourney was a mistake. If he was discovered or if he disgraced himself, Father would be furious, not to mention the fact they'd be the laughing stock of the entire tourney.
Ben won't disgrace himself. He may not be a champion or a Ser, but one day he will be. Lyanna had watched him practicing many times, and felt certain that he would fare reasonably well. But not as well as I would, she thought and then swallowed down the ball of jealousy forming in her throat. If I were a boy, I would be doing the same.
"Yes, it's much better. You didn't happen to find a full suit of boy-sized armour in there, too?"
Benjen winced a little, as if he knew the direction his sister's thoughts had taken. "Everyone loves a mystery knight. They may think that my poor armour is an attempt to disguise the fact that I'm rich."
"That might be so...and they may also believe that its small size is to hide the fact you're really seven-feet-tall and built like a giant."
Serious grey eyes met an equally serious pair of grey eyes, and then both faces collapsed into a smile.
A sudden hand on both their shoulders made them jump with shock; without thinking, Lyanna hid the sword she was holding behind her back as she quickly turned around.
"Hmmm...Ben and Lyanna walking together looking as guilty as sin. I hate to think what it is you're plotting."
"Brandon! You almost made me jump out of my skin!" Ben laughed.
"That's strangely apt. Father wants to see you." Brandon paused and watched his youngest brother's face drop. "Don't worry...it has almost nothing to do with the old tourney sword Lyanna is hiding behind her back."
"We were just practicing...in the godswood. No one saw us, I promise." Ben's justification came out a little too quickly.
"Is that so? And you wouldn't happen to know anything about a number of missing lances at all?"
Ben shook his head, but Lyanna smirked.
"Why? Are you scared we'll take your armour and one of your horses and show you how it's done?"
For a moment, thunder rolled across Brandon's brow, but then he gave a loud laugh straight from his belly. "The day one of you can fit into my armour I will worry about that."
He reached around Lyanna, and though she tried to squirm away, it wasn't enough to keep him from taking the sword. He inspected it for a moment and then handed it back, seemingly satisfied that it wasn't his.
"Practice while you can, sweet sister. I get the feeling Robert will expect you to learn to handle another type of sword once you're wed."
Lyanna failed to find the humour and it was her turn to scowl, and she continued to do so even when Ben left to find their Lord father.
"Come." Brandon offered Lyanna his arm. "It seems Princess Elia is taking some air with her ladies."
Wrinkling her nose, Lyanna was about to object but Brandon was already leading her away by the hand that wasn't holding a tourney sword.
"Why are you so keen to watch royalty going for a stroll? It's her husband who is the knight."
Brandon turned and gave her a wide grin. "I'm trying to catch a fine wife for Ned, because the gods know he'll never find one on his own."
"Isn't that for Father to decide?"
"Father has been doing some thinking about his children's futures—that is why he's asked for Ben to go to him." Brandon now had Lyanna's full attention. "And he believes that, because he has made such good matches for his heir and his daughter—and they are good matches, no matter how you might feel about them—he is going to allow gentle Ned to marry for love."
"Ned's in love?" Lyanna asked in disbelief.
Brandon's smile was her answer. "If you would play the genteel lady for a moment, and pretend to be interested in hairstyles and dresses and the like for a moment, then I will show you who...and you can help me decide whether we she would make our brother a suitable bride. If so, then I'll tell Father."
For once in her life, Lyanna smiled and did as she was told.
Ser Barristan Selmy walked by Princess Elia's litter as she took in the sights and sounds of Harrenhal. She looked as beautiful as ever, but the dark shadows under her eyes and the weariness in her voice reminded him of her recent brush with death.
She had almost perished during the birth of Princess Rhaenys, and the birth of her royal son had been twice as perilous. Ser Barristan found it amazing that she had managed to travel the distance to Harrenhal so soon, though it was obvious to him that she was still very weak.
Wherever Prince Rhaegar was, she wanted to be with him, though it had to be said that the prince spent most of his waking hours performing his royal duties, practicing with the sword or the lance, or reading until almost dawn in the Great Library. The rest of their time was spent together with their children.
Ser Barristan had to admit that it was nice to see the prince and princess show such devotion to each other and their family, as the king and queen had no such relationship. Ser Barristan had seen many things that he wished he hadn't while serving Aerys, and the king seemed to be becoming more volatile by the day.
He had hopes that, if the seven willed him to still serve the kingsguard when Rhaegar succeeded his father, the son would be a much more stable ruler. From what he had observed from a distance, he added mentally.
In the beginning, Aerys had seemed as fair and promising, yet Ser Barristan had seen him grow to be twisted and suspicious. The man that he'd rescued from Duskendale had been a far cry from the prince that had been crowned after King Jaehaerys' death.
Though he had sworn his oath to protect the king and not to judge him, Ser Barristan much preferred guarding the other members of his family. Rhaegar did not require him often, as he was mostly guarded by his close friend and confidante, Ser Arthur Dayne. No, it was the princess that Ser Barristan always hoped to be asked to accompany.
His eyes sought out the reason for this preference. Ashara Dayne—with her hair pale enough that she could be a Targaryen princess herself, and pale lilac eyes so haunting that one look almost crumbled a man's resolve. Ser Barristan Selmy himself broke his vows with her almost every night in his dreams.
He was in love with her, and hopelessly so because he was a member of the elite kingsguard, and part of his vows had been to take no wife and father no children. So Ser Barristan would have to be content to adore her from a distance, and to not show how much it hurt him to think that one day she would marry another man and give him heirs.
Ashara had many admirers, and though he had become accustomed to others being captivated by her beauty, it never pained him any less to wonder if she found the admirer fair in return.
As he stared as covertly as he could, he found her smiling at someone in the crowd and followed the line of her eyes—a man and a young girl, both visibly highborn. He wore the sigil of a grey wolf on white—Starks, Brandon, Lord Rickard's heir, and presumably his daughter, Lyanna.
At first, Ser Barristan hoped that the object of his affections was familiar with Lord Stark's daughter, but the northern girl's attention soon drifted and she looked at the knights around her. Her brother was smiling back in Ashara's direction.
Ser Barristan's heart skipped a beat, but then he remembered hearing that Lord Rickard's eldest was betrothed to one of Lord Hoster Tully's daughters, and that was a marriage alliance that only a fool would break. He exhaled in relief and brought his attention back to Princess Elia.
~X~
Stunned, Benjen Stark exited his father's quarters and returned to the sea of tents that had now grown up outside Harrenhal.
His father had told him that when Lord Bolton's current squire had become a Ser as was expected, Ben would travel to the Dreadfort to take his place and serve Lord Bolton until Ben had earned his own knighthood.
Being a knight was all that Ben had ever dreamed of, and now he was on the verge of making that a reality...but for Lord Bolton?
His father's reasoning was sound, Ben knew it—Lord Bolton was one of his most powerful bannermen, from a house that had a history of conflict with their liege lords. Lord Bolton had no children as yet, so there was no chance of appeasing him with a marriage, so Benjen would be sent as a peace offering.
The thought made him nauseous—Nan had told him many stories of what happened in the dungeons of the Dreadfort when the Boltons rebelled against the Starks, and Ben had no urge to be flayed and displayed with the others.
As he walked, Ben was snapped out of his daze by the sound of jeering.
A man in black with a loud booming voice was telling tales of the frozen north and the valiant deeds the men of the Night's Watch carried out in the name of honour and defence of the realm. Yet very few people had stopped to listen and most just laughed as they passed by. Many others heckled him, asking what kind of honour thieves and rapists had, and how many snarks he had killed beyond the wall.
Ben paused for a while to watch the man continue, unfazed by the humour he was inadvertently causing.
After a few minutes, Ben became aware of a dark presence to his left, and looked up to see a figure wearing black standing over him. "They don't realise that the men who take the black are the first line of defence between the seven kingdoms and the horror that lies beyond, else they would give this recruiter the respect he deserves."
For a moment, Ben thought the elderly black knight was a member of the Night's Watch himself, but then he saw that the face amongst the almost white hair was young, and that his black armour was heavily ornate and studded with rubies.
"My prince." Ben lowered his head and looked at his shoes while he composed himself. When he lifted his eyes, he saw the prince smiling.
"You're a Stark," the Prince said. "Starks have manned the wall for as long as can be remembered. It's said you have ice as well as the blood of the First Men in your blood, and you love the cold as much as I love the sun."
Ben gave a small chuckle, and then wondered whether that was appropriate in the presence of royalty or whether he should be bowing as low as he could. "Benjen Stark, my lord. I like being warm as much as the next man. At Winterfell we have heated springs to warm the castle during winter."
"Well met, Benjen Stark. I daresay the wolf would learn to survive in the snow, should it need to. So few good men choose to don the black these days. Has the man persuaded you to go to the Wall?"
No, Ben thought, but Prince Rhaegar Targaryen gives a convincing argument. "No, my lord. I'm to be a squire for one of my father's bannermen. I want to be a knight someday."
For a moment, Ben wondered if the prince would be angry at his response, but instead he gave a sad smile. "Well, the realm could always use a few more good knights." Prince held out his hand and Ben took it. "But please promise me one thing..."
"Anything, my prince."
"Never forget...'Winter is Coming.' Truer words were never spoken."
Ben nodded his agreement, and bit his tongue when he thought to point out that winter had already been and gone, and that spring was upon them.