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 Twenty Four – Choosing the Path
Laughing, Lyanna stretched out a lead ahead of the guard that tailed her like a bad stench. Her father had sent them, ordered them to follow his command to stay with her at all costs.
In the beginning it had frustrated and annoyed her, but today, galloping free throughout the gentle fields and woods of the Riverlands, it provided amusement. Pausing on a small hill, she looked back to see them following in the distance, slowed down by their heavy armour and inferior horsemanship.
I feel free, Lyanna thought, and smiled as she urged her horse to fly through the wheat toward another wooded area just ahead. She weaved through the trees, wondering whether her father's men would be able to keep up, until suddenly Lyanna pulled on her reins, bringing her mount to an abrupt halt.
Inadvertently, she had stumbled upon a small encampment of knights and armed men. As her heart thudded in her ears, and almost all of the men stopped and looked back at her, she looked for a sigil, colours, anything to say that this was just a heavily guarded party heading toward her brother's wedding.
She found a griffin, skulls and lips, plain white shields and cloaks, and most prominently, a three-headed red dragon on black.
Her breath caught, hoping it would be Prince Rhaegar. The gods knew that should it be the king, who had shown a definite dislike for her family, or some other royal who had no reason to like her after Harrenhal, then she might be in some considerable trouble.
Her horse grew skittish as Targaryen soldiers surrounded it, and she noticed that the white cloaks, the elite kings guard, rushed over to where the black banners concentrated around a black and red tent.
Someone reached for her reins, and for Lyanna that was all the catalyst she needed to fire into action.
Her guards, ten of them, wouldn't be far but then they were tiny in number compared to those in the Targaryen camp.
Her horse pushing through the bodies that surrounded her, in her desperation to flee, Lyanna trampled one soldier underfoot. A hand caught her cloak, breaking the clasp and pulling it from her shoulders, but she didn't pause.
Ducking under low branches as she headed away from the camp and in the opposite direction of her own guards, Lyanna hoped that if she could leave them all behind there might not be any trouble between Starks and royalists. One branch caught her unawares and caught on her cheek, stinging, and Lyanna knew it would draw blood.
Why were they here? Lyanna was certain Brandon wouldn't tolerate the prince at his wedding. Who else might her father or Lord Tully have invited?
Unless...
The wedding of Brandon to Catelyn Tully was no secret. It was obvious the area was going to be host to various Starks, and their friends and allies. Anyone wishing to encounter them would find it hard to miss the large procession coming down the King's Road.
Lyanna remembered how the king had declared the Knight of the Laughing Tree a traitor. Did he know? Had Rhaegar betrayed their secret? Had some armourer remembered Benjen buying junk plate and equipment from them?
Finally, Lyanna burst through the trees and found an open field. Riding like she never had before, the grass rushing by under her horse's hooves, she ventured a look behind. To her dismay she was being followed.
As she turned to look ahead, she saw a small black spot on a green hill in the distance. They were too far away to tell but perhaps they were the small group of Stark protectors that she should have stayed with. She turned her horse in their direction, praying to the gods that she was right to do so.
When the black spot began to move she told herself it was because they recognised her, and were coming to her assistance, but Lyanna's pursuers were swift and gaining little by little.
There was a stream flowing across the green expanse, blocking her way, and it was when she had to slow enough to allow her horse to find its footing amongst the stones and water that those behind her got close enough to shout her name.
With a sinking feeling she looked at the distance still separating her from her salvation, and saw that they were still too far. Instead she turned, hoping that well chosen words might buy her enough time.
The chasing party got closer, and Lyanna saw the rest of the encampment filter from the trees much more slowly, reminding her of just how outnumbered she was. Panting with the exertion of riding so hard, her brain whirling as she thought about how she could escape the situation.
A black knight, mounted on a brown horse draped in black and red, lifted his visor, and a half-second of relief flowed through Lyanna as she recognised Prince Rhaegar flanked by Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent of the kings guard.
"My lady. Please, we mean you no harm," the prince said as he rode closer, seemingly out of breath. "I only wish to speak with you."
Lyanna nodded and muttered, "My Prince," as she allowed her horse to retrace its way out of the stream onto the muddy embankment so she stood before the three figures looking down the slope at her.
Her cheeks had flushed through more than just the morning's exercise. Though he was very much garbed as the notable figure who won great jousting tourneys and sat by the king's side, there was enough of the boy in the brown cloak in Prince Rhaegar's face to remind her of that night...of the moment under the oak tree she'd not been able to forget since.
His horse grew close and she smiled as she recognised his mount...Direwolf, the horse she'd named. He had seen the recognition in his eyes and smiled back.
"I've been taking good care of her. She was an idea choice for Harrenhal." He patted the familiar mare's side.
"Yes, so it proved, but I can't take the credit for that. She was bought by my brother." Lyanna wondered where these pleasantries were headed. Had Rhaegar ridden north to help protect the Knight of the Laughing Tree again? Lyanna began to panic. What about Benjen, waiting in a half deserted Winterfell?
"He did well. I only wish I could have had the opportunity to congratulate him myself." The prince's face dropped. "It was regrettable that the Knight of the Laughing Tree couldn't compete on the final day...and it seems the reward I gave you for your efforts was a little unseemly."
"Yes," Lyanna whispered, remembering the crown that was almost rotted away back in her room. "But thank you. I understood what it meant. It was my prize for coming third in the tournament." More than once she'd allowed herself a few silly girlish moments where she had imagined that it had meant the handsome prince had miraculously fallen for her, but Lyanna had soon shaken the idea from her head.
It seemed that the moment only just dawned on Oswell Whent as he looked between Rhaegar and Lyanna. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, did not react at all. How many others knew the true identity of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and the prince's involvement in that tale?
"Good." Rhaegar gave her a serious look with his indigo eyes. "You fought bravely and earned it. I admire you both. You would make a fine knight...and your brother, Benjen, too."
Lyanna's brow furrowed as a sore point was probed. "Yes, he will."
The prince rode closer and held out something for Lyanna to take, wrapped in a soft, silk cloth. It was heavy and once she took it, she found a highly polished pair of gauntlets, more slender than most, and obviously made by a very fine armourer.
"For you—I had them made especially. Better than your previous set." The prince watched her inspecting his gift. "Lyanna, do you believe in prophecies?"
"I've never really thought about them," she replied, marvelling over the workmanship.
"What if I said you will train to be a knight?"
Shocked, Lyanna's grey eyes met his. "I would say that you've taken leave of your senses. I'm a girl, betrothed to be married. My father would never allow it."
Rhaegar's face was grim. "No, he would never allow it, and I know Lord Robert would not bear it well..." His gaze was intense. "But this is meant to be. You told me how you felt at Harrenhal and I've dreamed that it came true."
Lyanna gave an incredulous look and then looked across the way to the approaching guards, still some way off. "That I will just take off and leave my family behind? That's impossible."
"Maybe not if you had help. You're meant to come with me, Lyanna." Her name, he called her by her name. "I will train you and knight you myself, and buy you a set of real armour that matches. I know you can joust, and I know you'll be a credit to the fairer sex."
Lyanna said nothing and looked at the young man before her, in his ruby encrusted breast plate and jewelled scabbard by his side that no doubt contained a Valyrian steel blade.
If Lyanna had followed her dream to be a hedge knight when the idea first came to her, how long would it have been before she was raped and killed in some remote place, or before her father or Brandon found her and dragged her back to Winterfell to the wedding gown that awaited her. But, if she left with a prince, one guarded by the best men in all of Westeros, then how would her family be able to take her away?
It's what I've always wanted, she thought, and just for a second she allowed herself to visualise—Ser Lyanna Stark, if that was the correct title for a lady knight. Part of her smiled inside, yet she still hesitated.
"If it's what you want, come with me now. If you're not sure then you're free to go, but I doubt we'd ever get an opportunity like the one we chanced upon today."
Lyanna looked between the prince and her guards, her guards and then the prince. Internally, she raged war with herself over what she was going to decide.
After what felt like forever, Lyanna blurted out, "Yes, I will come."
"You must be certain. If we go now there's no turning back."
"Yes," Lyanna said more forcibly, and then Rhaegar whirled his horse around.
"Oswell—tell Ser Richard to take my men and delay the Stark guards. Then they're to ride straight for King's Landing as planned. We will wait for you to catch us up near the stoney hill we paused at yesterday. If you're not there by evening we'll assume something has happened and ride straight on to Dorne—you know where."
"Yes, my prince." Ser Oswell rode across the field towards the knight of skulls and kisses and the waiting soldiers.
"Arthur, you stay with me." Rhaegar positioned his horse, which twitched anxiously, sensing the sudden urgency, alongside Lyanna. "We ride fast and stop as little as possible. We have a long way to go. Are you still sure?"
His eyes searched hers, and for a while Lyanna wondered whether she might have fallen asleep and be dreaming, but no, this was really happening. She really was riding off with the crown prince to train to be a knight, defying her family and all expections of how a high born girl should behave.
"Yes," she said clearly. "I've never been more ready."
The prince gave a rare smile, and after the briefest of looks back at the field to watch Targaryen soldiers get into position, facing the oncoming small band of northmen, Lyanna Stark took off, riding between the black knight, Prince Rhaegar, and his white-cloaked friend.