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 Sixteen – A Guilty Mind
The moment that the uproar began, Lord Rickard Stark looked at his youngest son and his new found friend. If it wasn't for the fact that Benjen had been sat right by his side watching the Knight of the Laughing Tree earlier, the paling of his face and the way he looked at the Reed boy would have convinced him of his guilt.
Lord Rickard pushed a plate of meat between the two. "Eat, if you know what's good for you. They say that nerves affect a man's stomach first, and that if he can keep food in his belly his conscience is clear." And hopefully the onlookers would remember the same saying...
Apprehensively, he watched Benjen pull off a strip and chew on it very slowly. Young Howland Reed was equally as reluctant, and Lord Stark pondered the possibility of the young man from the swamps defending his own honour. Crannogmen didn't often ride horses, given the landscape they were accustomed to, and he doubted that they had much opportunity to try their hand at jousting.
Though maybe if he'd had a little instruction from those who had...and had some measure of natural talent...
Benjen continued to chew his mouthful of meat very thoroughly before swallowing, his eyes not meeting his father's. And where was Lyanna? No doubt she was off playing at being a boy, not a care in the world about the fact she might be missed at dinner.
If the two youngest Starks thought they had managed to keep their secret practices hidden, they were very much mistaken. Lord Rickard had found their makeshift tourney field himself, though instead of being angry he'd actually been quietly impressed with their ingenuity.
At times he was too lenient with his children, he knew it. The wolf's blood had skipped a generation, and had come back in concentrated form. Lyanna was wild, untameable, and even the powerful young Lord of Storm's End would have his hands full. No leash would have taught her to walk instead of run and behave as a lady should; so he'd allowed her to be herself from an early age rather than try and force her to be any different.
There was still hope for Ben, and Lord Rickard had no doubt that Roose Bolton would manage to keep him on the straight and narrow. Loathe as he was to part his youngest offspring, being as close as they were, it could only help impressionable Ben.
Ned—he didn't need a leash. Calm, and measured, Lord Rickard watched him looking at Howland and Benjen, probably thinking along the same lines as he himself had only moments before. The wolf's blood did not run so strong in him, and he was calm, measured, and loyal. Very much his father's son.
As much as Lyanna and Ben needed separating, Brandon and Ned needed to be together. When someone across the room spoke up and pointed out the strange coincidence that the knights that the Knight of the Laughing Tree had challenged the knights Howland's attackers squired for, looking pointedly at the youngest Stark, Brandon was the first to his feet, shouting his protests.
Lord Rickard himself cleared his throat and spoke up to say that Ben had been sat with him when the mystery knight was present earlier, and then the hall descended into yells of who had and hadn't seen Ben and his friend, and when.
It wasn't until Ser Arthur Dayne of the kingsguard stepped forward and proclaimed that he was certain he had seen young Benjen Stark and his friend on each occasion that the accusations died down.
Then Prince Rhaegar finally attended the feast, and the room calmed a little while he asked to be appraised of the discussion so far.
It was at this point that Ser Bryen Blount commented that Brandon had vouched for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, along with Ser Jamie Lannister, now inconveniently leagues away in King's Landing.
Unable to give the knight's true identity, and proving himself to be a liar, Brandon answered with shouts and insults until his father pulled him back down to be seated on the bench.
Prince Rhaegar managed to keep some kind of order, at least until Lyanna finally graced the room with her presence. She'd not yet reached her family's table when Ser Aenys made his voice heard.
"It might be worth noting that the young lady of the north fought off my squire and those of my fellow defeated knights. Where did she get the sword, and how could a maid wield it with such skill?"
There was a murmur of agreement, and suddenly all eyes were on Lord Rickard's daughter, frozen to the spot.
Lyanna looked sufficiently confused, and quickly glanced down at her gown, as if emphasising the fact she was a mere female. A slight blush rose up her neck but her voice did not falter. "Anyone can swing a sword—be they a knight, a woman, or even a child. I was running an errand for my older brother, and happened to have a tourney sword to hand."
Ser Leslyn shook his head. "My squire said that you fought like you were trained to do more than simply swing a sword in a man's direction. You have three brothers...no doubt you've watched them fight once or twice, maybe even watched them joust. Perhaps you watched so intently you thought you'd try it for yourself—to embarrass those who your crannogman friend found trouble with.
Lyanna's blush faded as a grin stretched across her face. "I'm sure your squires did tell you that I fought like more than a mere maid. Who could stand the shame of that? Three boys vanquished by a girl with no fighting experience, wielding a blunted tourney sword? No doubt they'd have you believe that I was the long lost sister of the Sword of the Morning himself!"
The benches erupted with laughter, and the three defeated knights became silent.
Smiling the young prince shouted, "I saw this young lady with my own eyes during the Knight of the Laughing Tree's first joust. Once we start shouting about maids being champions, capable of defeating ordained knights, then we have no chance of discovering his true identity. The truth is that many people saw the squires with the crannogman that day, and it is entirely possible that he wasn't their only victim, only the best known thanks to the bravery of a young girl—"
Getting to his feet, King Aerys banged his wizened fist on the table before him.
"I will not have it." The only sound was that of cutlery being dropped, the squeak and shift of leather and metal. "It is clear that whoever this...person is, they are not a knight. They have fraudulently entered the competition, and I will not have someone who is not ordained, who has not spoken their vows, riding against my own blood."
The slightest of murmurs agreed with the king, his speech louder and more powerful than his aging form would indicate. Despite the hidden turmoil of his mind, he was still very much a charismatic and persuasive ruler.
"I do not know whether he is here or not, but let this supposed knight earn the title 'Ser'." King Aerys pointed his finger around the room, at no one in particular. "If he can meet the challenges that anyone might see fit to make on the morrow—jousting, melee, archery, I care not which—and if he is truly a champion, then I will ordain him myself."
There were one or two cheers and a brief moment of applause, but the king had not finished.
"And if someone could unmask this inpudent 'knight' before the night is over, then that man will have earned my gratitude. In return for their service, I will grant any reasonable request—land, titles, gold..."
The feverish excitement of the crowd flowed over, and Ser Richard Lonmouth was the first to proclaim that he would seek out this knight in the name of King Aerys, the second of his name. It didn't take long for young Lord Robert to get to his feet, make a similar oath, and then storm out of the room.
Shaking his head at the sudden crush to go seek out whichever poor soul had donned the patchwork armour in the name of honour, and who it seemed would die for it too, Lord Arryn nodded towards his other ward to go with his friend, lest he do something reckless.
Ned dutifully got to his feet, and Brandon made to go with him, but Lord Rickard shook his head.
"Someone had best stay with these three, in case someone tries to accuse them again."
Suddenly realising that she was being talked about, Lyanna shook herself out of a trance. Her father followed the line of where she had been staring and found himself looking at the prince.
Confused, his brow furrowed. Maybe there was a girl inside his daughter after all. Maybe she was actually innocent of what he suspected? Or maybe he should speed along her wedding before she could cause any more trouble?
~X~
Lyanna lay away in her bed, looking at the candle, and imagining herself stood beneath the oak tree in the moonlight once more. Only this time she wasn't with honourable Prince Rhaegar; she was with a nameless boy, a boy with white-blond hair escaping from his brown hood, only this time he didn't have any moral compunctions stopping him from furthering their embrace.
Earlier, she'd decided that she wasn't just another silly young girl fawning over a handsome fairytale prince, imagining herself to be a princess. It wasn't about the fact he was a prince at all. In fact, in his black and red finery, sat between his wife and the king, that Rhaegar had been a complete stranger.
No, instead she was captivated by the young man who had helped her cover up the Knight of the Laughing Tree's secret identities. The serious boy who had asked questions and given her wise advice as he'd broken lances, and scrubbed amongst ditches and hedgerows to hide the evidence. The fellow jouster who had approved of and been impressed by her efforts. The first man that she'd ever wanted to kiss...
Lyanna tossed and turned as she found sleep hard to find.
Would her betrothed have done the same thing in the circumstances? Maybe if Robert spoke to her more she might also warm to him, too? Lyanna thought, but couldn't convince herself.
One day, many years down the line, I'll be able to turn to him over the breakfast table and say, "Remember Harrenhal? My brother, Howland Reed, and I were all the Knight of the Laughing Tree," and he'll be impressed, Lyanna told herself.
But it wouldn't be the same. By that time, the Knight of the Laughing Tree would be a tale very rarely told, fading away into the histories of champions that never were.
With a sigh, she climbed from beneath her blanket and grabbed her robe. Peeking out from her door, she couldn't see Brandon prowling outside her and her youngest brother's room, and she quietly tiptoed down the corridor, quickly opening and closing the door behind her.
Ben was also still awake, though for a very different reason.
"Lyanna!" Ben lowered his voice to a whisper once Lyanna lifted her finger to her lips. "What are we going to do? They'll search the godswood for sure—"
"And they'll find nothing." Lyanna gave a wide grin as she sat on the end of her worried sibling's bed.
"But what...how?" The smugness on his sister's face told Ben who had hidden the armour and lances.
"I was warned what was going to happen, and so we hid everything. All anyone will find in the godswood is trampled earth."
Ben visibly relaxed. "Who warned you? How did they know?"
Wondering whether to say or not, Lyanna paused, but then eventually spoke when it became obvious that Ben wouldn't forget about his question any time soon. "The prince..."
"The prince? Prince Rhaegar?" Ben asked in disbelief. "You're jesting."
"Yes, Prince Rhaegar warned me that his father was angry, and then assisted me. You don't believe me...tomorrow we'll walk by the royal stables and you might recognise one of the horses there, only she'll have a white blaze painted down her face."
"Why? Why would the prince warn us what the king was planning? What did he say? Did he really help you hide the armour, or did he bring a servant?"
"He's a good man," Lyanna answered Ben's barrage of questions, "and one day he'll be a good king. No, he didn't bring a servant. He helped me with his own hands."
Picking up on the wistfulness in his older sister's voice, Ben's brow wrinkled. "You're in love with him?"
"Of course not...he's married." Lyanna added mentally that she wished he wasn't, and that he wasn't royalty. Just that thinking about him made her feel almost as alive as when she'd worn the patchwork armour and hurtled down the tourney field, lance in hand.
Outside the room, Brandon had been listening with amusement as he discovered Ben and Lyanna's guilt. Despite the trouble, he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of pride that, between the two, they'd made sure the Stark family were represented amongst the final champions, but something in the way Lyanna's words caught in her throat as she spoke about Prince Rhaegar caused his nostrils to flare with rage.
A prince he might be, with a reputation for honour, but he was still a man. The rumours of his father's liking for bedding women who did not belong to him were well known, and no doubt he'd been raised with a similar sense of entitlement. It was hard to miss the way that almost all females looked at him with a sigh, though he'd never thought of Lyanna as the type to behave in that way.
She's growing up, he realised, and she's turning into a very beautiful young woman. When did that happen? And who else other than Lord Robert and the prince had noticed?
Feeling suddenly very protective, Brandon swore to himself that, unless they were her rightful husband, anyone who laid hands on his sister would have her oldest brother to reckon with.