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 Eighteen – A Crown of Blue Roses

The white knight faced the black knight across the field. Both were renowned champions, but still a distracted murmur ran through the crowd—Lyanna could feel it.

They wished the Knight of the Laughing Tree was here to compete—or to see what it was that the king intended to do with them. She looked at her brother, who was still holding his shoulder hunched and stiff. If the knight was here it would be me, she thought, and felt an overwhelming longing to be there on the field, armoured and ready to joust.

She'd never felt more alive than she had been holding that lance, hearing the roar of the crowd and the clash of wood on metal. Moments like that were worth dying for, but they weren't worth risking your family. No doubt the memory would keep her warm at night for many years, even when she grew old and wrinkled, and she couldn't imagine anything would ever overtake it in the forefront of her mind.

For just one day, Lyanna realised, I was the person I was always meant to be. One day of brilliant colour, and from now on everything will seem grey.

The black knight spurred his horse and the two competitors raced toward each other. Lyanna willed Prince Rhaegar on.

After he'd offered her his assistance, she'd seen the real person behind the popular crown prince. Knowing what he was truly like, if she'd been born male should would have gladly sworn her sword to him, followed him into battle, maybe even join his kingsguard should she be good enough...

Lyanna snapped out of her daydream as Ser Barristan fell to the earth and the crowd erupted. Some proclaimed Prince Rhaegar the greatest champion of the greatest ever tourney; others just roared.

Would they have cheered as loud for me? Lyanna wondered, watching Rhaegar lift his visor, ride up to Ser Barristan, and shake his hand. They exchanged some words but Lyanna was too far away to hear. Prince Rhaegar smiled for a short while, and admiration and jealousy went to war inside her chest.

Waving at the crowd, for a second Lyanna thought his gaze rested on her for a second and her heart fluttered.

Don't be stupid, Lyanna, she scolded herself mentally. You were the Knight of the Laughing Tree. He would have had to joust against you had you shown up to compete. Of course he'd take note of you for a brief moment.

The prince rode up the field, his serious face returned, and he handed his lance, shield, and visor to his squire.

Time for all the pomp and ceremony, now that the fun part is over, Lyanna thought with a sigh. Seeing the wistful look on Ben's face, she quickly squeezed his hand to show that she knew what he was feeling. As they'd discussed last night, he would have other times. He could be the great knight that both of them wanted to be.

Ben smiled, and then his brow wrinkled. Lyanna turned to see what it was that made her youngest brother react that way.

Prince Rhaegar was holding a crown of blue roses in his hand, but by now he'd ridden past where Princess Elia and her entourage were seated. Part of the ceremony was that the champion would choose a woman from the crowd and crown her the queen of love and beauty. For single knights it was a great honour to bestow on someone they admired, often sparking wedding negotiations and future betrothals. For married knights it was a mere formality...

Prince Rhaegar rode closer and paused in front of her on his black horse, before holding the blue rose crown over the wooden barrier.

"For the lady of Stark. Truly, this tourney would not have been the same without you. Please take this crown in honour of your beauty and your spirit."

Lyanna, barely able to breathe, reached forward and took it from him, the flowers seeming fragile in his black gauntleted hands. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robert, seated further along the bench, make a move, but Lord Arryn caught his shoulder and forced him to sit down. Ben's mouth was wide open in shock.

"Thank you," Lyanna croaked, thrilled at the covert recognition of her participation in the event, but also mortified at the fact all eyes were on her, and no doubt coming to a very wrong conclusion. She felt the back of her neck and then her face burn and flush.

Looking her in the eyes, his face still and serious, Rhaegar turned his horse the opposite way and headed towards where his father and his wife were sitting.

Lyanna's own father was looking down at her, as stoic as ever, and she wondered what was going through his mind. Brandon's gaze followed the prince, looking almost as furious as Robert.

"Brandon," her father said quietly, "I think it may be for the best if you escorted Lyanna back to our quarters and remain there with her..." Lyanna watched his focus switch from her to the king, who was amongst those staring at Lyanna herself.

Brandon almost dragged her from the stands, and as she went she heard the whispers following alongside her.

Once they were alone and climbing the steps of the tower they were staying in, Brandon finally spoke. "Would you like to tell me what is going on between you and Prince Rhaegar?" he almost hissed, still holding her elbow roughly.

"Nothing!"

Brandon paused. "So you expect me to believe, along with the rest of the crowd, that the 'good prince' decided to embarrass his wife, our family, you, and himself simply because he was overcome by your beauty?"

"No!" Lyanna spat back.

"You're pretty, but you're not that pretty, Lyanna. But then again, a jousting maid might make herself stand out. I know what you and Ben were doing. How did the prince get involved?"

"You know?" Lyanna's eyes grew wide, but Brandon fell quiet as they walked past the two northern men standing guard. He waited until they were in the sanctuary of Lyanna's room before he answered.

"Yes, I know. You should hope that no one else does after he gave you that." He pointed at the blue rose crown Lyanna held in her hands. "Now what did the prince do? Don't make me go and ask him myself."

"He warned me that his father wanted to find the Knight of the Laughing Tree...and he helped me hide the evidence."

"And what did he get in return?" Brandon's voice was a low, threatening growl.

"Nothing! Is that what you take me for, brother dear?" Lyanna was furious at the aspersion being cast. "Prince Rhaegar is an honourable knight."

With a humourless chuckle, Brandon watched Lyanna place her rose crown carefully on a chest. "Oh, yes. Very honourable. I'm sure his wife is thinking the same thing this very moment."

Unable to retort, Lyanna sat on her bed, feeling ashamed.

"A true man of honour is a rare thing, Lyanna, especially when a pretty maid is involved. You are still a maid, aren't you?"

A blanket was thrown across the room, wrapping itself around Brandon's face. When he removed it he saw Lyanna scowling in his direction.

"Yes, I am still a maid, and I can assure you that the prince behaved properly the entire time. Do you think I'm some kind of whore, or some lovesick little girl fawning over the handsome prince?"

Brandon laughed. "No, I take you for one of the fierce she-wolves of Winterfell come again. My sister and my baby brother...the Knights of the Laughing Tree."

It always struck Lyanna how quick and unpredictable her oldest brother's tempers were, but when he smiled it was hard not to smile with him.

"We did better than you." Lyanna raised her eyebrows and waited for his response.

"Aye—but there were two of you. I daresay Ben's shoulder is still sore."

The two jousted verbally until the day had passed, and the sun began to sink below the high walls of Harrenhal.

~X~

Ashara had been watching the Stark table all evening, and as he got to his feet and made to leave, she saw her moment. None of his companions made to go with him.

Getting to her own feet, Ashara followed him out into night air, hurrying to catch up with him as best as her skirts and petticoats would allow.

"My lord! Please...wait."

The figure in the dark stopped and slowly turned. Ashara saw the moment he recognised her, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open.

"My lady..."

He hadn't spoken much the first time they'd danced. Listening to his voice, there was a similarity in accent and tone, but where Brandon had spoken with a low growl, his younger brother's voice was much more mellow.

She caught up with him. His eyes were also different; Brandon's had been full of confidence, but Ned's looked as if he was almost afraid of her.

Maybe he should be? she thought, but aloud she asked, "I don't mean to seem improper, but is there somewhere we could talk...alone?"

Eddard Stark swallowed and it took a few moments for him to find his voice. "The...the godswood, perhaps?"

He's still a boy, Ashara thought as she looked up at him. Not like Brandon—Brandon is a man. Maybe, once he's a little less green, he might grow to be more like his older brother?

"Yes," she agreed with her most charming smile and held out her hand.

As he led the way, Ashara looked around for eyes that might watch them pass by...a guard or two, a stable boy...Ashara saw a glimpse of blonde curls. Could it be Cersei Lannister, the Hand's daughter? Ashara knew her from Kings Landing. She seemed the type who would enjoy advertising a scandal should one present itself.

They didn't go far into the wood, staying close to the entrance as they had neglected to bring a torch. Still, Ashara didn't need to see him in the light to sense his nervousness.

"My lady, you wished to speak with me?"

Ashara couldn't help but give a wide smile. The younger brother truly was an innocent.

"Yes," she whispered as she walked closer. Eddard took a step backward before Ashara got close enough to put her hands on his chest. She traced the familiar wolf sigil on his doublet. "Please, call me Ashara."

Eddard mumbled something incomprehensible as Ashara pressed herself closer. She looked into his eyes as her arms wound around his neck, and saw that he was as hypnotised as a mouse caught in the gaze of a snake.

His hands found her shoulders as she lifted her mouth to his. At first he held himself stiffly, but after a short while he responded. It wasn't until her fingers travelled down his body to his breeches that the hands on her shoulders forced her away.

"My lady...Ashara?"

Ashara lifted her right hand to the grip on her left shoulder, tracing a looping line to his elbow, and then along his upper arm as he relaxed and she drew close once more. The trail of her fingers travelled up his neck to his face, with its soft stubble reminding her that this boy wasn't quite his older brother. Brandon's stubble had been coarse, where Eddard's was more downy.

This time, as she kissed him, his hands tangled in her hair. Ashara felt victory in her grasp. If the older brother refused to marry her, or marry her to his brother so she could remain near, then she would force a marriage herself. If she could make the younger brother love her enough, and maybe create a scandal that the Starks might want to keep buried...

Pressing her body to his, hands on her shoulders pushed her away once more.

"Please," she whispered desperately, looking up into Eddard's eyes. He wanted her, she could tell.

Warm hands cupped her cheeks, but as she lifted her face to continue the kiss, she was disappointed as his lips pressed to her brow. Looking down into her face, he seemed unsure of what to say, but in the end he said, "I won't allow myself to dishonour you in that way."

Holding onto his forearm, she whispered, "I'm not a maid," and Eddard's brow furrowed.

"I—I am. And I intend to stay that way until I'm wed." His breathing was loud, and Ashara was still close enough to feel the pounding within his chest. His hands dropped to her upper arms and rubbed her reassuringly. It was more of a brotherly embrace than one of passion.

"And have you found a girl to be your wife?"

His eyes answered long before his voice did. "If she'd have me. If her family would allow it. If my father would allow it..."

He's not his brother. Ashara heard in the softness in his voice, the gentle way in which he'd refused her. Still, she had the offer she'd aimed to achieve, but her victory felt hollow.

Brandon and Ashara, they were alike. Eddard was an innocent. Over the past few days she'd almost convinced herself that she hated the oldest Stark sibling for the way he'd treated her, and now she was doing the same to his younger brother. Did that make her as cruel and heartless as he was?

No, not heartless, Ashara thought as she felt the tightness and shame inside her, though I wish I was. No doubt Eddard would marry her and be glad of it, and then she'd live out the rest of her days in the north as his wife. He would be a sweet husband, and honourable, she could see. He would adore her...

And all the time she would be looking over his shoulder at Brandon, the future Lord Stark. When Brandon married Catelyn Tully she would have to curtsy and call her Lady Stark, and that would be the bitterest potion of all.

A tear rolled down Ashara's cheek.

"You're crying?" Eddard asked, wiping the droplet away.

Giving a sad smile, Ashara untangled herself from him. "I can't marry you. I'm sorry. I should leave."

As she turned he caught up with her. "Let me see you back safely—"

"No!" she replied a little too loud. "No. It might look...wrong...should anyone see us. I made a mistake in bringing you here. Please, let me go."

This time he didn't follow.

From the shadows, Prince Rhaegar watched, hidden from view. He knew the emotion expressed in the way Eddard Stark was holding himself all too well. He'd done the right thing in refusing, but the self-denial stung. After it would choke him, and haunt his dreams with "What ifs?"

Prince Rhaegar was here in the godswood in the hope that Lyanna Stark would come to visit, maybe to visit the place where the Knight of the Laughing Tree had made his and her home. He half hoped that she might want to speak to him, too.

He needed to explain why he had given her the crown. He'd seen her in the crowd, seated next to her brother, when he'd won the tourney. It had felt right to reward her bravery. Had his father been more sane and even-tempered she would have been on the field, jousting against Ser Barristan and himself.

Instead he'd given the honour of being the queen of love and beauty, and she was fair. Though, when you knew her quality, she became more than fair—she was beautiful. She was braver and more honourable than many knights he knew, and made a good case for allowing the fairer sex to join their number. Maybe, when he was king...

Lord Robert Baratheon was beyond lucky to have her as his betrothed. The sons she gave him would be fierce warriors.

Three, there must be three. The thought came to Rhaegar unbidden, and he quickly pushed it away.

No, he had done enough damage to Lyanna Stark when he gave her the crown of blue roses. And he had done enough damage to his own marriage. When he'd seen his wife after crowning Lyanna, he'd recognised how hurt she was.

Later, when alone, he'd tried to explain that Lyanna Stark and her brother were the Knights of the Laughing Tree, but for all she listened to him, he could see that she didn't truly understand. Instead, she had felt inadequate. They both knew all too well that she couldn't bear him the third child he craved. The three that the prophecy demanded.

The number weighed heavy on his mind, as did Lyanna Stark.

Rhaegar watched Eddard Stark leave the godswood, and followed as soon as he was out of sight.

The prince had been foolish to come here. What would he tell his wife when he returned? The truth? That he'd been waiting in the godswood to explain to Lyanna Stark why he'd crowned her the queen of love and beauty?

No. Elia wouldn't shout, scream, or tell him how much he'd shamed her, but he would see it in her face. He, Rhaegar, had made her feel that way.

Looking back, he knew he'd compromised himself. It had been confirmed when he accompanied Ser Richard to his father's quarters to receive his reward. His father had laughed at him, and he had said, "You've found your Joanna. You grow more like me every day."

Nothing could have made Rhaegar feel worse.