280 AL

Jaime kissed his twin's naked shoulder, holding her to him. Cersei sighed softly at his touch. She was so beautiful, his golden sister. Where Jaime was muscle and sinew, Cersei was roundness and softness, almost as tall as he and lovelier than any other woman he had ever seen in his life. His heart thumped loudly at the mere thought of her, and the blood in his veins rushed with renewed frenzy. "Did you miss me while I was gone?" he whispered in her locks, his hand drifting over to her flat stomach. She placed her hand over his.

"You know I did. I always miss you when you are gone." They were not whole one without the other. "Must you always spend so much time with that creature?" Her face contorted with the distaste she held for the younger sibling.

The good mood that had settled about them disappeared. Jaime sat slightly up. "He is our brother," he reminded the woman softly. Cersei had never been fond of their brother. Poor Tyrion, he still did not understand why it was that both the female twin and his father despised him. Nor did Jaime understand. Tyrion was just a child.

"He killed our mother!" Cersei accuses, soft hands gripping his shoulders. "That little monster tore her apart, Jaime. You cannot expect me to forgive him." Nay, he did not expect so deep a hatred to be forgotten in one day, but Jaime still tried his best to soothe his sister. "As if it is not bad enough that father allowed him to live and breathe and stain the reputation of our family, you must show him attention whenever you go home." Yet Cersei was not easily stopped when the mood was upon her. The stubbornness clearly came from their father.

Schooling his features into those of an amused man, Jaime attempted to placate Cersei. "Yet father did allow it, and I must act accordingly. There is no use in hating Tyrion, sweet sister." Tyrion was hardly at fault for their mother's death. He did not ask to be born and have her die bringing him into the world. "I hardly think he planned all of this." Plenty of women died giving birth. Hadn't the King's own wife gone thus from the world? Did that mean that Rhaegar loved his daughter less for it? Indeed not. As Jaime had heard it, the King adored his daughter.

"It is not a matter of intention," his sister protested. "He killed out mother. Whether he wanted to or not, I do not care." And neither did their father it seemed. Jaime was not sure why Tywin had allowed his lithe brother to live, but he was never at ease with his youngest son's presence, he just hid it better than his daughter.

"We cannot bring mother back." Jaime took her back in his arms. "It is pointless to discuss this." He kissed her lips and bid her sweet dreams. Cersei hadn't wanted to give up but she was rather tired, so she allowed her brother some peace for the time being.

"Be sure to close then door properly," she told him, as Jaime climbed out of her bed and pulled his clothes back on. He felt her eyes admiring him and made slow work of pulling on his breeches, then his tunic. The doublet he took in his hand. There was little need for it. Cersei turned her face away as he left. He knew she did not like the sight of him leaving, having claimed more than once that she felt empty without him.

The feeling was mutual. It was very lucky for them that the problem of Lyanna Stark has taken the attention of everyone. It left Jaime and Cersei with both time and opportunity. Rumours were flying left and right about the many abuses Lady Lyanna had suffered at the hands of her husband, one more outrageous than the other. Some claimed she was forced into the marriage, other said her own father sold her for an obscene amount of Gold Dragons, and there were those who claimed the lady never married and was spirited away and used out of wedlock to fulfil the, undoubtedly, perverse desires of Robert Baratheon . It was the last notion that many had a problem with. As if the first two were any less appalling. Such was their world. People did not bat an eyelash at the news that a young woman was made to enter a marriage with a man she had no desire to wed, nor did they think it amiss for a father to barter his daughter to the highest bidder, who most often happened to be old and lecherous to boot. But they took great offence should any sacrifice such as these took place outside the sanctity of wedlock. Jaime though them all hypocrites. But as he cared nothing for any of them he was content to keep quiet.

One of his main concerns though was his sister's determination to enter one such bargain. Their father only encouraged her. Cersei had recently become determined to catch the attention of the widowed King. Apparently she had some notion of becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. "Only think of what it would mean for the family," she would whisper to him as they lay tangled in the sheets of her bed after an exhausting round of lovemaking. Jaime was by no means a fool. He knew such a match would be advantageous, but he was also aware that the King showed no preference for his sister. He showed little interest in any woman to be fair.

Many though he still carried a flame for his departed bride. Jaime rather wished for that to be the truth. If the King would not have his sister, he could possibly convince her to run away together. He had tried it in the past with disastrous results. Cersei did not even want to hear of it. But Jaime was certain that he could convince her in the end. Father could just leave his legacy upon Tyrion's shoulders. The gods knew his little brother showed signs of a very intelligent mind even at his young age. Tywin Lanniser of all people should be able to appreciate the shrewdness of his second son. For some reason though, the patriarch of the Lannister family turned a blind eye to the achievements of his youngest child. Indeed, most of the time, he acted like his second son did not exist. But the fact remained that he would have to console himself with Tyrion once Jaime made off with Cersei, and he would, in his own time.

Rhaegar Targaryen would never have his sister. Not because he was unworthy. If ever there was a man to whom Jaime would, grudgingly and barely willingly, surrender his sister to, then the King would be that person. However, the King seemed content to not have his sister, so Jaime was content to not press matters like his father would. The Dragon was tolerant enough as it was. Who knew what an angry fire-spitting lizard could do when angered.

Once inside his own bedchamber, Jaime slipped under the covers. Under the current circumstances the tourney had been delayed. Most lords and ladies had been happy enough with the outcome as it gave them some time to acquaint themselves better with the preferences of the Capitol fashion and manners in order to make a batter impression upon the King. It mattered little, of course. Ultimately the King would choose at the advice of some close friends as most kings did. He would rely on the knowledge of Arthur Dayne, Jon Connington and Oberyn Martell, as Doran was quite unable to make the journey to the Capitol. His father was bound to be disappointed.

Dayne was amused by his sister, Jaime had gathered, and perhaps even admired her beauty, but the man would never recommend her to the King for the simple reason that he and Twyin Lannister fostered a great deal of animosity between them, the reason for which was unkown. Jon Connington held a real distaste for Cersei. He had taken it in his head that the Lannisters were power-hungry and giving them one finger would never be enough for them – which Jaime did not deny. His father and his sister were indeed interested in the balance of the forces acting in their realm. As for Oberyn Martell, he had once heard Cersei uttering something disparaging about his dear sister and he never quite forgave her. Granted she had gone a bit far in deeming the King's late wife unable to conceive even if the Father himself took into her bed. At that time Jaime had found it amusing. Oberyn not so much; and the son of Tywin had the distinct feeling that the Viper would not likely let it slide. Should he get a chance to foil any of Cersei's plans, he would gladly do so.

Rickard touched his daughter's cheek gently. "How are you this day?" He held a peeled blood orange in his other hand. Lyanna reached for that, her eyes still holding a faint hint of distrust. Her father had entered the room with a grim face, and for all his trying, Lyanna could feel that something was wrong.

"I am well, father," she said in the end. Her fingers wrapped around the piece of fruit given to her, but she did not raise it to her mouth. Instead she concentrated on her father's face. "My lord, I think it would be best if you told me the reason for your visit."

It could be a number of things that induced Lord Stark to come to her bedside earlier. Lyanna could only wonder if it had anything to do with her reckless brother. Perhaps Brandon had been found. Despite his claim that he would do nothing for his runaway son, the she-wolf was not at all convince that her father hadn't sent at least a few men to keep watch on his heir and the woman he intended to wed. Rickard hadn't said as much, but his daughter was certain he was willing to cooperate after the disaster she had suffered.

"I need your word that you shall do your best to comply to what should be asked of you," he said morosely.

"I should like to hear what I am agreeing to," Lyanna insisted. While she could not erase the filial love she held for her father, Lyanna had learned trust was best administered in small quantity when it came to his words. Once was enough; she would not allow him to use her a second time. Luck had been on her side in the whole ordeal with Robert, but who knew what could happen a second time around.

"It seems one of Robert's servants was in league with her master," Rickard started calmly. "She claims that Robert has been nothing but kind to you and that he has spent many nights in your bed as your lawful husband." He held his hand up at her shocked expression, knowing very well she was about to offer a loud protest. "It is a lie, that much I know. Yet 'tis credible. You are wedded to the man; it is natural that he would wish to bed you."

"He did not bed me," Lyanna hissed through clenched teeth. "It is a servant's word against that of a lady." Well aware that even the nobles lied, Lyanna felt a twinge of guilt over using such an obviously underhanded method. Yet hers was the truth. If she needed the circumstances of her birth to validate her word, she would use that.

"It is not important if he did it in truth. But that wretch has already spoken the words." Rickard's brows furrowed. "They will want proof of your innocence."

What proof could she possibly offer? Lyanna sighed. "There is something that can be done. Otherwise you would not have come to tell me this."

"A group of four Septas will be instructed to determine whether or not you are still a maid. If what you have told me is true, then you must still have an intact maidenhead, so we need not worry." His explanation made it clear that he sought a confirmation of his beliefs on the matter.

A surge of annoyance shot through the she-wolf. "I am still a maid. Let the Septas examine me as they wish. I have nothing to fear from them." She wondered if all the nobles gathered whispered about her misfortunes. Tyta had offered nothing but a small smile when Lyanna asked what was being said about her and told her she needn't worry over the foolishness of others. Yet it seemed to her that the foolishness of those people could well destroy her. After all, her father was right, her shame was not only hers; unless the patriarch of the Stark family decided she no longer served any purpose and threw her away. Luckily enough for her, she still had some use. Her success was hinged on exactly those rumours. The game could only be played if she followed the rules, and Lyanna had only just started learning them.

For instance, an accusation was never repeated to the presumed perpetrator if that person belonged to a powerful house. Usually the rest of the nobles were content to whisper about the crime behind the back of the person responsible. That left the accused without any means of defending himself, and it also gave the audience a good spectacle to laugh at or shake their head at in disapproval and contempt. Were Lyanna to barge out of her room and shout at the top of her lungs that Robert hadn't touched even the tip of a toe, it would be useless. Her only accomplishment would be giving those people more material for their gossip. It would serve her infinitely better to keep silent and speak only when needed.

Oftentimes in the legends of old the hero was an honest man. Everyone praised the virtue, yet few could boast possessing it. Admiring the honesty of a lord or lady was all good and well, but it did not confer an elevated status. Those same legends praised craftiness that bordered on deceitfulness. What did that say about the morality of their world? Ideals had no place in the struggle for power. Lyanna realised that. The ideal of fatherly love should have stopped Rickard Stark from practically shoving her into Robert's arms. But it didn't. The ideal of chivalry should have held Baratheon back from burdening her with an unwanted marriage. It hadn't. Nay, her world was far from ideal. Yet the young she-wolf had hoped that she might retain some of those principles and not bent them.

One compromise could only lead to another compromise, and so on and so forth. She had compromised by allowing her father to once again implicate her in one of his schemes. Undoubtedly she would have to follow through with it. "Why is it so important to you that I be found a maid?" Even if she hadn't been untouched, Robert had given up any right to her when he ran away. The condition of her maidenhead was important only if she wished to marry again and wed into an important house. "You may always bribe the next man who thinks to be my bridegroom, my lord." Her mockery was rewarded with a cold glare from her father. Rickard stood up to leave, but Lyanna had one more question for him. "What is the name of the servants that accused me of having slept with Robert?"

"I believe they call her Alys." He gave a shallow bow. "I shall not be seeing you until after your examination. I have managed to have them allow Old Nan to keep you company, but the four Septas are of the High Septon's choosing. I beg that you employ your mother's lessons in courtliness, daughter, and see us through this unpleasant incident." He left without another word.

Alys? Lyanna was still stuck on that name and barely paid any mind to her father's pleading or his subsequent departure. The Others take all these traitors parading through her life, Lyanna thought, rather uncharitably. She had treated that woman and her child well, despite her suspicions of Brynden's parentage. That boy looked too much like Robert for him to have been anyone else's. Alys herself had given it away with a few longing stares towards the man. Lyanna had graciously ignored that, though it was an affront to her pride and status as mistress of her husband's home. She had taken Alys under her wing, foolishly entrusting her safety in the hands of a traitor. Why would someone deliberately speak lies like those Alys had uttered when they knew Lyanna's distaste for the man she had been forced to wed? Why cause her trouble like that?

Anger and curiosity gnawed at her. Lyanna almost called for Alys, but stopped herself at the last moment. It would do no good to speak to the woman. Alys had already chosen her side. Afraid she would throttle the ungrateful servant for her attitude and actions, Lyanna forfeited her plan to see her. There would come a time when she would show herself superior. Until then the she-wolf resolved to make due with proving herself innocent. Robert had to be somehow involved, Damn the man. Even from far away he exerted his influence over her. "By the old gods and the new, I swear that I will break these chains you've bound me with," she murmured under her breath, eyes narrowing into slits.

Her fate would not be dictated by a hated husband. If for that she had to endure that humiliating testing of her innocence, Lyanna was prepared to make that sacrifice. She would prevail and then she would find a man who did not repulse her.

Rhaegar gave Connington a long stare. "My lord, surely you do not mean this? I cannot release the child from a vow she was forced to perform under duress, only to obligate her to go through with another marriage."

"Your Majesty misunderstands our meaning," Varys interposed softly, intelligent eyes shining in the warm light of the candles. "We do not seek to trouble the lady with this proposal, yet such a union between House Targaryen and House Stark has its use. It would be the waste of a perfect opportunity to turn away from this chance."

"What exactly are you saying?" Rhaegar questioned, leaning back into his chair. Certainly, wedding the Stark girl would bring stability. He would gain a wife and gods be willing an heir. Cersei Lannister would be out of his hair, which was almost enough to make him propose to the young woman right away. Of course, the North would perceive it as flattering that he would choose a queen from those parts, and it would go a long way to strengthen the Targaryen claim over those domains.

While it was true that Targaryens preferred to keep the bloodline pure, even they recognised the merit of aligning themselves with the former ruling houses of the Seven Kingdoms. The North was a wide territory. Should they take it into their heads to rebel, they could cause trouble. Having a Northerner queen had not yet been done, supposedly because the men of the North preferred to keep their daughters in those frozen lands rather than to bring them to court. Yet now, Lady Stark was there.

For all that, Rhaegar was curious how Varys would try to persuade him. The Spider, as he was called by his allies and enemies alike, was a clever man. And he was concerned with the realm first and foremost. If he suggested this match, surely his reasons were sound.

"Lady Stark is the only daughter of Winterfell, Your Majesty, and she carries in her veins the blood of the First Men. Although the age of the First Men is no longer, the Starks of Winterfell are admired throughout the realm for their strength and nobility. They have remained in power for many ages. They deserve this consideration, as one of the oldest and strongest houses." The eunuch gave a slight smile. "Furthermore, Lord Stark insists on an alliance with a house of the South. Perhaps we may turn Lord Stark's eyes to the Lannister maiden. That way, even if it somehow came to pass that Lady Stark failed her purpose, Lord Tywin would be unable to push for the marriage he wants."

"I should add that Lady Stark had made quite an impression upon Your Majesty's daughter," Jon Connington pointed out. That Rhaegar had expected. Jon's problem was that he was more preoccupied with his King's pleasure than with the realm's prosperity.

But, Varys was right to point out the futility of Tywin's plans should Rhaegar bid Cersei to go and wed a Stark. She would be a good-sister to him, and thus never able to enter his bed. That ought to put a stop to her father's ambition.

"As for the Lady herself," Varys continued, "she is certainly good-looking. I have not had the pleasure of seeing her closely myself, but various lords and ladies have assured me that even with the regrettable violence that has been done to her, she is still quite lovely. There is the added benefit of her youth. Your Majesty may even choose to delay the bedding given the bride's young age. Even for a few years. That would give Your Majesty time enough to shape her after the needs of the realm." He fell quiet for a few short moments before looking up into Rhaegar's eyes. "One may also take into account the benefit such a union would bring to Your Majesty's image."

Rhaegar Targaryen, righteous king and protector of maidenly virtues. That would surely make him a favourite of the Maiden. How thrilling. Of course, marriage had little to do with protecting a maiden's purity. But it offered a legal background sufficient for the consummation of a nature to be considered shameful outside marriage. It would simply show that he was humane enough to listen to the troubles of those who could not so easily defend themselves.

"Lord Stark has already sworn that his daughter is still untouched. The Septas will come to the same conclusion in a short time. And then Your Majesty may release the girl from that sham of a marriage she has until now endured." Jon straightened his back, a heavy question making its way to the surface. "Should Dorne oppose, what will Your Majesty do?"

"Dorne is part of the realm, same as any other former kingdom. They cannot oppose as it is not their prerogative. You have said it yourselves, my lords, an alliance with the North will offer us a strong military power should the need arise." Rhaegar wrote something on a piece of paper then folded it over. "Elia Martell was my wife and through her House Martell has gained my ear in the matter of a few problems, yet they would do well to not forget that I do not heed their advice exclusively." He held a warm regard towards the members of his departed spouse's family; they were resourceful and had a knack for politics, but they were not the only important house that demanded pleasing. The King could not ignore the rest of the realm in favour of a small part of it. Otherwise he would not reign long.

Likely, Doran had already heard about Rhaegar's intentions to find himself a new wife. Through Oberyn his words and thoughts would be known – if Rhaegar managed to convince the Dornish Prince to give him a straightforward answer. He would waste time and good wine on that, as Oberyn was known to like his games more than his duties, but Rhaegar did not complain. Oberyn had his moments.

"I will consider the proposition carefully," Rhaegar dismissed the two. They were good advisors and their plan had its merits. But he would like to speak to a man closer to his mind. "Get me Arthur Dayne," he ordered one of the guards standing outside the chamber doors.

As was his custom, Arthur took care not to hasten himself too much. Most people supposed the King to be a patient person. While it was true that Rhaegar display a calm exterior on most occasions, he was quite far from what was rightly serene. Sometimes he thought Arthur acted thus on purpose. He did his best to hold his temper in check, which, he had confided into his friend often enough, was a difficult feat. This quality he had developed could be easily attributed to many years spent in the treacherous court of his father. His existence depended on it.

Aerys Targaryen had been the one to teach his son that a mask was always necessary when dealing with the nobility. Arthur had been one of Rhaegar's close friends even then, so he'd heard the old king many a time instruction his successor. Even as a Prince people tried to use him to fulfil their own plans and wishes. There were few people Rhaegar liked and even fewer he could trust. Weaknesses were unaffordable. The faintest trace of a weak point invited trouble. It was enough that his nobles fought over matters that ought not to see the light of day, so foolish were they; he hardly had any need of them trying to peel his armour off in search of something to exploit. Thus it was much safer for everyone involved if he was perceived as composed and always in control of himself.

"Your Highness seems to be contemplating very serious matters," Arthur observed upon entering, his step brisk, his face pleasantly neutral. "Am I to understand you have received a worthy proposal from your true Lord Hand and the Spider?"

"You do enjoy mocking them," Rhaegar noted lightly. He poured wine in two cups and offered one to Arthur. "They think it their duty."

"Then you are not displeased." Of course Arthur would have already heard some whispers of it. Rhaegar nodded. "When last I spoke to them they had three candidates in mind, each enticing in their own way. I suppose they finally settled on the most beneficial union."

"How exactly did Lord Stark contract his daughter's marriage?" the King questioned. "Was there a contract? I was given to understand that he offered her no dowry, nor did Baratheon settle a dower upon the girl."

"I have found something of interest among a stack of old letters." Arthur held out a time yellowed paper. Its creased surface displayed a neat hand, though most likely to belong to a male, as the letters were sharp and precise, rather like the writing of a war general. "It seems Robert's parents were in the middle of negotiating a match between their eldest son and a girl of House Swann."

"Daela Swann," Rhaegar read the name out loud. "Wouldn't Robert have been no older than four years of age at that time?"

"Indeed. The lady herself was a couple of years older, and everyone though the match brilliant." Arthur held out another letter. This one Rhaegar skimmed over. "And for a time it was. The Swann girl spent some time as a one of Casanna Baratheon's ladies after she was flowered."

"Daela Swann must not have taken the news of Robert's marriage too well." Yet no complaints had been lodged upon the subject.

"I am sure that should she still be of the living the lady would have had something to say. But as it happens, Lady Swann was taken by the Stranger not long after she turned six-and-ten." Something in Arthur's voice hinted towards darker motives than those common. "Officially she succumbed to a sweating fever. She was sent hone before the illness began and her parents instilled a quarantine not a couple of days after her return."

"You suspect a pregnancy?" Lord Steffon was not the sort to send away a helpless woman. "Why not simply call a Septon to seal the marriage and be done with it?" It should not have proven a problem and likely it would have saved everyone a good deal of trouble.

"Certainly had Lord Steffon known, he would have done so. But he was only then returning from the quest your father had sent him on." The rest was easy to piece together. Yet Rhaegar allowed Arthur to go on. "Apparently Robert no longer had any interest in the girl, so he sent her back to her own family. Lord Steffon dies soon after and Robert saw no reason to keep to the bargain his father made. Perhaps the Swanns tried to rid themselves of the evidence of the girl's shame, or mayhap she dies in childbed. Nevertheless, she is gone."

"Have the Swanns submit the contract if they still have it," Rhaegar instructed. It would help Lady Stark's cause should it be proven that Robert had had a contract with another woman and not kept to it. If indeed the girl had carried his child and he refused to do right by her, the High Septon would have to take that into consideration too.

"If it means anything, I think that Lady Stark is not such a bad choice. She is certainly better than Cersei Lannister," Arthur offered with an impertinent smile. "Yet I cannot understand why you would haste to the altar."

"The whole matter falls rather too conveniently for me to ignore it. Lady Stark boasts some benefits that I am entirely agreeable to. Besides, I still need that heir." He folded the letters carefully and handed them back to Arthur. "Lady Stark has the advantage of being a bit too young to bear children, which gives me the time to know her better."

"I hope you are not going to start with that 'bond' of yours again. Wives are for breeding, my friend, not for loving. If you want love, there are enough women who will indulge you without the burden of marriage," Lord Dayne laughed. His teasing extracted a smile from the King.

"I do not count on loving my wife, Dayne. But there is hardly anything wrong with courting affection within one's marriage, nor is wanting an understanding wife a crime to my knowledge," the monarch replied.

Lyanna looked at the man who entered with some astonishment. She thought she would have no more visitors before that odious trial she was supposed to undergo. But she supposed it was a king's prerogative to do as he willed. "Your Majesty," she said, falling into the customary obeisance.

"Lady Stark," he replied, "it beings me great relief to see you back on your feet." She inclined her head politely, having not been aware that the King held her in such high regard. For a short moment Lyanna was tempted to comment, but she refrained. "I am sure you're wondering at my visiting so very suddenly."

"I suppose I am somewhat curious, but by no means should Your Majesty feel obliged to indulge me," she quipped gently. It applied to all males that they tried to keep their female counterparts in the dark on most occasions. "I am most used to spending my day between being confused and being frustrated at the feeling of bewilderment."

Rhaegar laughed heartily, much to Lyanna's delighted surprise. She had expected to be rebuked. But the King seemed to take well to her complaining. He was certainly a more gracious creature than she would have thought. After his mirth dissolved, he regarded her with a penetrating stare. Lyanna lowered her gaze. She found it somewhat difficult to keep her eyes on his face for some reason.

"As it is not my wish to keep you in a state of anxiety, my lady, I shall try to be as concise as humanly possible," he said, indicating that she should sit down with a wave of his hand she could not miss. He sat down too. "Without doubt you have heard about the trial, so I shall not distress you further with that subject." He fell silent again. Lyanna had to look at him then. "The truth is, my lady, that I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" she repeated, sounding somewhat dumb even to her own ears. "What exactly does Your Majesty have in mind?" At least the man had the decency to ask her, and not give orders.

"I would be honoured in my lady allowed me to pay her court after the marriage to Robert is dissolved." Well, that had been rather bluntly put, but Lyanna was not about to complain. "I realise it is somewhat sudden, but I believe we could match splendidly."

"Then why does Your Highness request my permission. Most men would simply demand the hand of the woman they had set their sights on." What an interesting man. Lyanna admiration for him grew considerably.

"I have told you not too long ago that you are entitled to have some say in the choice of your future. I do not intend to prove myself a hypocrite by doing something contrary to what I believe is right. It is my hope that you accept, but as a man, I would find it offensive should you have me because you are ordered to," he explained patiently, dispelling her distrust.

An ugly thought reared its head just then. "Has Your Majesty not heard what is being whispered throughout the Capitol then?"

"Rumours do not concern me, Lady Stark. You have told what passed through your marriage and I require no more than your word. You are, after all, an honourable woman," Rhaegar replied. Lyanna wanted to hug him then. "And even if it were different, my lady, you are not accountable for the sins of others."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I do believe this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." What he offered her was more precious than a thousand Gold Dragons. "Yet I cannot help but ask why you would want me, Your Highness. Certainly, there are better candidates. Easier to obtain, so to speak."

"What is easy is hardly ever satisfying," the King responded in a wise manner. "I will not lie to you, my lady. There are considerable advantages that a union between our houses would bring. I have taken those into account when I made my decision, and they do represent a fundamental factor, but I sincerely believe that we would be well matched on a more personal level."

Why had she expected something different from him? Lyanna knew that his proposal was a saving grace. He was king and considerate, going as far as to give her the choice. Her. And not to her father or anyone else. She could be his Queen. He would treat her well, she supposed. He seemed like such a man. She should be pleased. And somewhere in her heart she was; she knew she was. But then, why did that feeling of foreboding course through her? Her silly heart had gone and misinterpreted his kindness and understanding, turning it into more than it was. Lyanna took care to hide her disappointment behind a thoughtful mask.

"I require some time to think about this proposal, Your Majesty," Lyanna finally replied. She had been tempted to accept right away, but something held her back. Presumably it was the same twinge of regret the King's pragmatic view of the situation brought in her chest.

"But of course," he answered, an amused smile making its way to his lips. "It would be unseemly to court a wedded lady. You shall have the necessary time to think of everything, I trust, as I only plan to start this courtship after the trial is concluded. If my lady is not opposed to you."

"I do not think I shall be opposed." Lyanna gave him to hope that she was interested and she would likely enter a betrothal quite happily. "Might I make a request of Your Majesty?"

"Certainly." He sat up, preparing to leave. Amethyst eyes gave her an inquiring look.

"I should like to see the Princess after the trail is over. I have promised her something and as I am an honourable woman I plan to do exactly as I said I would." She met his stare and was pleased by his pleasure at her words.

"Consider it done, my lady."

A/N: Title from H.P. Lovecraft's "Fact and Fancy".