280 AL
Cersei refused to allow him into her bed. Jaime chafed at that and at his father's edict. His sister insisted that he should have protested in a stronger manner. "I will rather die before I allow it!" she had screeched, promptly shunning his embrace. "I will not share you." The steel in her voice brought him the comfort of knowing her anger would pass and then she would be his again. Whatever she said, Cersei knew it was not possible to oppose their formidable father.
However, the promise of future satisfaction did not erase his current discomfort. The Lannister heir hoped the cool evening air would help him. It had, up to a point. The frustration was not gone, but his body was more relaxed after a good ride.
A most curious sight caught his attention. A mousy little thing, clearly some lady of one house or another by her clothing, was being accosted by two young men with leering faces. She cowered against a wall, perhaps hoping they would take pity and leave her be. Jaime snorted. What was one such as her doing outside the safety of the palace walls and without an escort? Whichever the case, what was seen could not be unseen. He would have to offer her aid. This was Cersei's fault too. She had made it so he could not ignore a woman's pain. He spurred his horse into action, charging towards the trio.
In retrospect he needn't have worried. The offenders took to their feet as soon as it became apparent what his target was. Cravens. They found it easy to latch onto a defenceless woman, but when they encountered an armed man they ran. Doubtlessly these wretches would sooner or later face the gallows. For the time being, Jaime was content to have them running away in fear. He approached the trembling form of what he realised was only a child. Frightened wide eyes stared at him uncomprehendingly. "My lady," Jaime started, slowly inching towards her, "You should not be out alone."
That seemed to shake her out of her stupor. The muted horror dispersed enough fort recognition to light her eyes. However instead of gratefulness she stared at him with distrust. Jaime tried to place the girl. He had seen her recently, at court. That was all he remembered. No name and no house to go wither her nondescript features. "My Lord of Lannister," she grudgingly acknowledged him with a small curtsy. A moment later it seemed some good sense returned to her addled brain for she had the decency to look down demurely and offer him proper gratitude. "Many thanks, my lord, for your timely rescue."
She sounded anything but grateful. Generally when rescuing a lady of quality a knight could expect some appreciation and affection. The girl before him seemed inclined to spit at him rather than give him her favour. What had prompted such a reaction? Jaime scowled. "May I inquire as to your name, my lady?" He sighed at the second glare she levelled his way. "You have the advantage of knowing my name," he pointed out.
"I am Tyta of House Frey," she replied after a second of considering him with a sour look. Really, most maidens would have been trying their best to charm him at this point.
One of Walder Frey's brood; a daughter, granddaughter or great-granddaughter. He almost pitied the old man. Then he recalled he was considering a Frey and all sympathy vanished. "Well, Lady Frey, we ought to head back to the Keep. Allow me to escort you." He couldn't leave her alone, ungrateful wench that she was.
"I think that would be best, aye," she answered in a suddenly small voice. Glancing around fearfully, the girl approached him further. He wondered what she was so afraid of. A skittish little thing. Cersei would never act like she was doing, he thought not without a touch of pride. His sister would have fought like the lioness she was.
Holding his hand out to her, Jaime pulled the girl in front of him. The saddle hadn't been made to fit anyone but himself. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Was there a particular reason you were being harassed, Lady Tyta?" If she spoke to every man that crossed her path with the same insolence she had presented him with, Jaime did not doubt one of them would take to task at some point. Or perhaps it was just him that made her uneasy. She failed to offer him any reply. "Well, my lady?" Jaime tried again, sending his horse into a trot.
"I was following someone," she admitted half a heartbeat later. Her tone was unapologetic and she stood rigid in his arms.
Of all the stupid things. "Who were you following?" Did she have no guardian to watch over her? He knew the Freys were many, but even so, whoever had brought her to court should have made a point of watching her too.
"My brother." The answer came too quickly. Jaime instinctively knew she lied. But it was not really his problem so he chose to say nothing. "I lost him and was about to head back when those two ruffians accosted me." A barely adequate answer and slightly unbelievable. Jaime was more than happy to accept it.
He could ask why in the name of the Seven she felt any need to follow her brother around. He could ask why she had no one with her. He could ask many other things, but Jaime didn't. She could keep her secrets, he had no interest in them. The only thing he wanted was for his father to give up any notion of him wedding anytime soon.
If Cersei did not want to share him, Jaime was even less inclined to share her. He did not worry on the King's account. Jaime had long since known that Rhaegar Targaryen did not desire his sister. But other men did. Other men would ask his father for her hand and inevitably someone would receive it. Either that or Tywin Lannister would lock his daughter in the King's chambers until she had convinced him to wed her. Considering the Kingsguard though, Jaime was inclined to believe it would be a failure. Besides, Cersei loved him. Her desire to have him all for herself proved it. He was hers in the same way she was his. They were the two faces of the same coin, the image mirror of one another. He loved her with every fibre of his being and nothing and no one could ever tear them apart. Jaime resisted the urge to smile in triumph at his reasoning, Him and Cersei, forever together.
Tyta Fret shifted against him, distracting Jaime from his pleasant thoughts. At least she knew not to pester him. She did not hide her dislike for him, but neither did she confront him about it. He was almost tempted to question her further. Her silence, however, warned him away. It was boredom that fuelled his interest anyway.
"My aunt Genna has married into House Frey," he said. It seemed a safe topic, non-invasive. Perhaps he would find what kin of Lord Frey's she was. The gods knew aunt Genna was not fond of her Frey kin, but Jaime saw no need to prohibit himself a short exchange.
"Aye, I know. She is wedded to my brother, Emmon." Tyta turned to look at him with dark distrustful eyes. "That would make us distant kin," she observed lightly, then a thin smile stretched her lips. "Then again, most of the Westerosi houses follow the costume of marrying their children outside their house of birth."
Clicking his tongue, Jaime threw her a hard stare. "Except for the ruling house. They seem more than content to bind close relatives together in matrimony. With a few notable exceptions, of course." By the way she looked at him the lass was in agreement with his assessment. "Is that why you are here, to find yourself a husband?"
"It might be," she allowed. Tyta gave a small squeak when the horse jostled them. Jaime held back a snort. This woman did not know her way around horses. "But if that was father's intention, I was never told of it."
He could use this, Jaime realised. The idea was so brilliant that he wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier. "What is your age, my lady?" The best approach was subtlety. In lieu of that, Jaime went for the direct approach. Patience was not one of his virtues.
"One and ten," Tyta answered promptly. But she was not about to give gratuitous information to a stranger. She was smarter than it was intimated by her earlier actions. "I shan't ask your age, my lord, yet I'll want to know what need have you of mine."
"Only a thought, my lady." Aye, he would look into the matter with utmost care and if it came to anything, he would be buying himself time. The girl was likely not yet flowered. That left him at least a year more. If she proved amenable, of course.
"How much longer now, my lord?" Her question jostled him out of his thoughts. Instead of shooting her a hard look as he would have done earlier, Jaime stared straight ahead and tried to gauge how long it would take to reach the gates. "I really mustn't be caught sneaking around. I'm told it's not a desirable quality in a woman."
"Whoever said that was a wise man," Jaime replied. At least someone in her family had some sense.
The girl made an odd sound which he wasn't sure how to interpret. Since his gut instinct told him it was mild displeasure, Jaime went with that. Her elbow dug into his chest, though she did not press hard at all. It felt more like a warning. "No man told me such a thing," she assured him. "Nay, 'twas my Septa. I daresay she would have a fit if saw me now."
How lucky then that none knew who she was. Jaime refrained from pointing that out to her, certain that his common sense would not be appreciated. "We are very near now," he said once he saw the gate looming ahead.
He could swear the girl muttered something about not being sightless, but Jaime ignored that, just as he took no notice of the fact that the guards gave them curious stares. What business was it of theirs anyway? He did as he pleased. The urge to kick some dust their way dissipated almost as soon as they were out of sight. However, he still very much wanted to throw the ungrateful bra off his horse. She was still muttering to herself. Or mayhap she had stopped and had only just begun anon. Just when he despaired of keeping his ears intact the Gods smiled upon him and a saviour came his way.
"Lady Tyta Frey?" the man asked. He, of course, bowed Jaime's way, but after that, he only had eyes for the girl. Tyta nodded. "I was sent for you, my lady."
"Who sent you?" Jaime questioned, quick as a whip. He had exerted himself to rescue the ungrateful damsel. What would it say about him if he lost her now? "Speak, my good man!"
"My Lord Varys is expecting Lady Frey's brother and herself to dine with him," the man explained.
Tyta groaned, though it was muffled by her hand. "It might be that my brother forgot to tell me. I shall be gone anon and we might be on our way."
Jaime gladly placed her where she wished to be. He inclined his head to the lady and gave one last warning glance at the man. "Have a care that the lady does not suffer any injury." She might prove useful, after all. It wouldn't do for her to not pay her debt. The look on her face told him she understood perfectly well.
"My lord, once again, I am grateful for your aid," she spoke then. The girl liked him no better than before, aye, but he could persuade her to change her mind. Of that he was certain.
As promised the man was taking her to where she knew that Lord Varys dwelled. Yet Tyta found it strange. Her brother was not the most attentive of persons, but perhaps even he would have a hard time forgetting a meeting with the Lord of Whispers. Shaking away the disquiet, Tyta hurried her step to keep up with the servant. This was not even the strangest occurrence. She only hoped her brother had not yet arrived, so she might excuse herself and find Lord Dayne. If there was one man to whom she might say what she had seen, then it was the King's confidante.
Lord Varys awaited in what served as his solar. To her great surprise, he was not alone. The King kept the Spider's company; Lord Dayne and Lord Connington too. Before she could make a fool of herself by gaping at them like a milkmaid at the lord of the castle, Tyta regained control of her limbs enough to give them the obeisance she owed to their ranks.
"Lady Frey," the King beckoned her closer. "I understand you have had quite an adventure today. Would you mind sharing the story with us?"
She could not, for the life of her, imagine how the news reached them so fast, but Tyta merely nodded her head in acquiesce. If only she could find the right words to begin. It was so very intimidating. Tyta took a deep breath. She had done this before and she could do it again. "Your Majesty, my lords, I saw Robert Baratheon at the market."
"I thought as much," Lord Connington muttered. "What was he doing there, girl?"
"I couldn't rightly say." Tyta bit her lip. "Yet I heard him engage a couple of men to aid him with something. Whatever his plans, I believe they have something to do with Lady Stark. He set a meeting point by the old gates." The old gates would serve perfectly. They were not heavily guarded and they were rarely used to the best of her knowledge. "It might be that he has some men on the inside."
Glancing around, Tyta noted with consternation that the Spider was no longer with them. She held her tongue though and waited to see what would happen. It was very well that luck had smiled down upon her. Who knew what would have happened had Jaime Lannister not found her and brought her back? For sure, Lyanna would have been once again put in harm's way.
"You are a loyal friend," she heard the King speak. Tyta took a moment to realise it was her he addressed and that she was being paid a compliment. She curtsied in acknowledgement, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from speaking. "Have you known Lady Stark long?"
"Not long, Your Highness." She was going to commit a faux pas and she hoped never to regret it. "But, really, Your Majesty, one does not need to know a person very long to determine their nature. Lady Stark is more than deserving of my loyalty."
"Did I not say she was very endearing indeed?" Lord Dayne cut through the silence, seemingly unaware of her misacting.
"So you did," the King confirmed. He gave Tyta a soft smile. "You are uneasy, child, are you not? Do we frighten you?"
Aye, very much so. He was perceptive, but he would not allow herself to be rude. "Not at all, Your Majesty, my lords." She was lying through her teeth and dearly hoped it did not show. "I am merely unaccustomed to the court yet."
"That should be rectified in time," Lord Connington told her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Tyta really did not appreciate the way he stared at her. There was, of course, very little impropriety in his gaze. But she felt like she was being assessed. "It is, after all, the King's wish that you remain as a companion for Lady Stark."
"Lady Lyanna is being moved out of her chambers as we speak. It seems it would be best to keep her closer still." He was a good man, Tyta though. But she feared that Robert Baratheon would fight him for Lyanna to his last breath. Short of wedding her and crowning her queen, he could do little but put his best guards at her doors and hope for the best. "This brings me to my next request."
"Anything, Your Majesty." It was well known that when the sovereign of the Seven Kingdoms requested something of one of his subjects, the appropriate response was to jump to one's feet and execute the order. However, beside a very strong wave of determination, she sensed kindness too. Tyta looked furtively up.
"Lord Dayne, I leave you to see to the rest of this." He sat up, his men following his example."Good day, Lady Frey."
"A good day to Your Majesty too," she answered softly, watching as Jon Connington followed his liege out the door. She was left with only the Dornish lord now.
Despite her considerable show of restraint during her conversation with the King, Tyta was not in possession of a wealth of courage. Her feet were heavy as iron, and quite shaky. She feared for her general health, thinking that the meeting had overset her. Oh, what it was to be unused to attention.
"Have a seat," Lord Dayne invited her. "You look ready to fall over."
It was, decidedly, not the nicest thing to say. But doubtlessly he was in the right. Tyta sat down and patiently waited for further instruction. Alas, Lord Dayne seemed content to gaze at her from his seat. He had opted for the chair he'd used when the King was present, which left them with quite a number of seats between them, as Tyta hadn't stepped closer to him. It was quite telling, this feeling in her stomach, like a thousand birds flapping their wings. How unsettling his eyes were. Tyta longed to look away, but he had caught her stare and was reluctant to relinquish it. Heart thundering in her chest, Tyta longed to immerse herself into the black shadows that dusted the solar's corners and lose herself among the cobwebs that undoubtedly inhabited such places. Yet whatever spell he'd cast on her, it was stubbornly holding her enthralled. This did not bode well for her.
Tyta cleared her throat. "My lord?" One needn't be extremely intelligent to gather what the cause of her was.
But the realisation was daunting and discouraging for a good number of reasons, first of which was her age. While Tyta was aware that her father's brides got younger and younger as his age progressed, most men did not, in fact, want a child bride. Age would likely take care of itself, eventually. There was the small matter of a dowry. The Freys were many, and Tyta's father was not willing to allot a grand sum of money or even strips of land. Had she been an only child, something might have been worked out. But since her father had more children than he had fingers and toes, her situation seemed quite dire. Of course, there was also the fact that House Dayne was an old house, their ancestry dating back to the dawn of days. By comparison, the Freys were nothing more than upstarts. And those two reasons were not likely to appear more appealing as time went by.
However, the most important one, and the one Tyta had shied away from considering, was Lord Dayne's own heart. He was amiable and thoroughly charming, but his aura suggested nothing more than vaguely brotherly concern. And like a little fool she'd gone and lost her head over him. Tyta was sorely tempted to hide her face away, but she knew it would not help her one iota. Hopefully the infatuation was only that and she would find herself free of it soon. After all, a girl who did not dream was bound to be sullen, but a girl who did not know her place was far worse off, both crushed and humiliated. Practical-minded Tyta knew that she would be safe enough once the effects of his presence wore off.
During this time, Lord Dayne had been studying her face, not once interrupting her thought. But movement of his part forced her attention on him. The man gave an affable smile. "I assume you already know what you must do as Lady Lyanna's companion."
"I'm certain that His Majesty wanted something in particular, if he thought I needed instructions." Tyta had acted as Lyanna's companion in an unofficial manner if one was to think of it. It shouldn't be at all harder a second time around. "So, my lord?"
"His Majesty merely requests that you accompany Lady Lyanna within her new living quarters and keep careful watch of what goes on." It was nothing more than she had expected. Tyta gave a nod, but her curious look must have alerted him that she had questions. "Would you care to know anything else, my lady?"
"I know 'tis impertinent and not of my concern, yet I shan't be at ease if I do not ask this: what are His Majesty's intentions towards Lady Stark? Rumours have been flying about and one does have a general idea, yet the truth is much more reliable."
"And why should you think I am in possession of the truth?" His question prompted a narrow-eyed look from her. He sighed. "If I do not answer you will pester me until you obtain this knowledge"
"Like the plague," she affirmed unrepentantly. They both knew he could order her away from his sight and see to it that she never made it in his presence again. Yet, for some reason Tyta could not fathom, Lord Dayne accepted her bold words with good humour. It seemed he played some game with her and for the most part she did not mind.
"Oh, very well!" He made some vague gesture with his hand as if to dismiss better notions from his head. Tyta waited with her breath baited. She leaned slightly in and concentrated on his face. Lord Dayne started saying something and her eyes widened. "His intentions are unknown to me."
The admission very nearly threw her from her chair. Tyta squealed in surprise. "You mock me, my lord. 'Tis not well done."
"Ah, but 'tis well done. I wouldn't dare speak for my liege. His Majesty shall announce his intention if his own time." Tyta frowned. Yet Lord Dayne was not at all discouraged. "Is this answer to you satisfaction?"
Not at all. Tyta bit the retort back. This really did feel like she was being teased by an older brother. She reined in her disappointment, chiding herself for being foolish. "How did news of Robert's return reach His Majesty so quickly?"
The smile of Lord Dayne's face dropped for a second. He was quick to pick it back up. "That is the doing of Lord Varys."
Yet how strange that the Spider couldn't find him before. "I expect that matters will be taken care of now." She should stand up and bow her way out of the room. It was time to find her brother who had likely never left the keep in the first place.
"We can only hope," the man answered, standing to his feet. He held his hand out to her and despite herself Tyta placed her hand in his, using it as leverage to sit up. "Someone shall come to escort you to Lady Stark's new chambers qwhen the time comes."
Of that Tyta had little doubt. She thanked him as was expected and pulled her hand back. It wouldn't do to build some fantasy regarding Lord Dayne. He was not what anyone had in mind for her. Her heart fluttered for one brief moment when his hand ghosted after hers, but she told herself that she'd imagined it. It was her heart, of course. Tyta resolved to ignore other attempts at raising her awareness of the man next to her. She was much too aware as it turned out.
"Lady Frey," he murmured just before they set on their different ways, Tyta to her room and Lord Dayne she knew not where.
"Be still, my heart," Tyta demanded silently of the offending organ.
The Septa was well pleased with the bloodied cloth Lyanna had produced. "The matter is clear, my lady," she said. Lyanna merely nodded. She had known it would turn out thus. But her female vanity was appeased at the recognition. None shall be able to whisper behind her back now that proof of her chastity was to be given.
They had waited more than the required time, truth be told. Lyanna had expressed concern at that, but the Septa had merely chuckled in the way more knowledgeable women did and assured her 'twas for the best. When it cam time to disrobe and bear another scrutiny, she had had time to gather her courage. Not at the result. But at the process. "Then I am maiden in the eyes of the Faith?"
"Aye, maiden you are." The woman wrapped the cloth in another cloth. "When night falls the door will no longer be closed and your innocence will be proven. But we are to stay awhile longer." She gave Lyanna an odd look. "I doubt you shall remain unwed long hereafter. Has anyone taken the time to explain the duties of a wife to you, my lady?"
Turning thoughtful, Lyanna sat in a chair. "When mother died I was a little child and not fit to hear such a conversation. My Nan tried to explain the lesson to me later, when I was to marry Robert, yet I would not hear of it. The long and the short of it, is that I know I am to give my husband heirs and I must strive to please him."
"Every wife ought to be a helpmate for her husband," the Septa spoke kindly. "And giving heirs is expected. But there is more to marriage than that. A woman is holy in that she gives life. Yet she cannot achieve that without a man. True marriage is a partnership, my lady. You must please you husband, aye, and he should please you as well. The two of you must work together towards common goals and support one another toward individual goals."
"It sounds very sensible," Lyanna greed. "But, I have yet to see such a marriage." Not even her own parents had had anything like it. "I was rather surprised you did not advice unquestioning obedience."
"I am not an advocate of blind submission. Respect is what ought to be between two spouses. A fulfilling marriage is rarely a battle for dominance. Guide your husband and accept in turn to be guided by him; communicate. Find the middle path," she wisely advised, a wistful smile on her face.
Deciding not to question the expression, the she-wolf nodded. "The tree that does not bend with the wind breaks." What the Septa said was in the realm of possibility, just not widely practiced. But surely as Queen her words would have weight. Surely a man like Rhaegar would not expect blind obedience. After all, he has asked that she consider his suit. He'd made no demands of her, nor pressured her into accepting.
Lyanna tried to envision it, her life as the King's wife. It was frightening, for her task was not easy. She would not be merely wife and mother; she would be queen as well. She would be expected to act the part, and if she wanted any piece it was best to do it well. Then there was lithe Rhaenys to consider. The child needed guidance, a warm soul to nurture hers. Lyanna understood the need. She could only pray she would understand the needs of the rest of her children just as easy. For a good queen was the mother of her realm, as her king was its father. People would depend on her, a lot of souls would be in her hands.
Yet as she considered those thought, Lyanna realised that while the task was daunting, it was not unfair to her. She would have responsibilities, but she would also have joys. She licked her lips, tongue brushing over the dry skin. "Where does love stand in marriage?"
"Love grown," was the answer she was given. "Or it does not. It depends on husband and wife. But, as far as I know, mothers always love their children, and fathers see to providing them. A child is as unshakable a bond as love. Sometimes even more so."
A child. Lyanna touched her flat stomach. The idea of a child had terrified her when she though it would be by Robert's touch that she would conceive. But otherwise what were her feelings towards the subject. Naturally, there was a mother's instinct to her. She had taken to Rhaenys easily and she was generally fond of children. A child was precious. And Lyanna decided she did want a child. She wanted to know what it felt like to hold her own son or daughter, eventually. There was peril in birthing. But then again what was completely safe?
She would wed Rhaegar. She would be his wife and queen and the mother of his children. She would be a good queen, as good as Queen Alysanne. Determination coursed through her. She could do this. Her father had faith in her abilities since he pushed for this marriage. Or so Lyanna hoped. She took a deep breath.
"I am sure you are right," she finally said. Now if she could only find a spot of contentment so that her waiting would be easier. Patience was one of those virtues she had yet to perfect. Yet she reminded herself that 'twas only a few more hours. She had been patient enough until now, she could go on. Soon it would be her turn to be happy. Already her life was taking turns for the better.
The Septa favoured her with a smile, which Lyanna could but return. Then she went to pouring herself some watered wine to quench her thirst. But as she set her cup down something like a commotion sounded through the doors.
Fear speared through Lyanna. She did not know why, but paralysing terror sunk its claws into her, icy fingers clenching around her heart. The Septa had barred the doors, of course, but doors could be broken down. The timing was awful, it was wrong, it was sickening, especially when she was just starting to feel elated. Lyanna choked back a hysterical laugh. Why would the gods be so cruel?
A sharp sound from opposite Lyanna startled both women. The wall came apart in front of their eyes and from within a woman crawled out. Lyanna was too startled to do much but stare. She wore a grey dress with a direwolf sewn onto it. She was roughly Lyanna's own height and appearance, but she looked just a little older.
The unknown woman bowed and Lord Varys, the Spider, appeared behind her. "My lady," he addressed Lyanna, "you are in danger. Follow me." He nodded to the Septa and she nodded back.
"Come here, my girl," the Septa called the woman who, Lyanna realised, was to play decoy. "You must go now, my lady," she then told Lyanna.
"But-" the she-wolf started to say, yet they would not allow it. Varys' soft hand circled her waist and pulled her away. Lyanna knew she had to follow. If they resorted to putting another in her place and spiriting her away through hidden passages, the situation was likely dire. So Lyanna held back her questions.
"It shall all be explained, my lady" Varys assured her nonetheless, as the stone wall closed behind them. She could make out the sound of wood cracking and a shriek pierced the darkness. It was followed by harsh words and much screaming, but everything grew quieter as they made away through total darkness. Instinctively, she gripped the eunuch's sleeve, crushing the material of his robe between her fingers.
Where were they? Lyanna had heard tales, dark tales of secret passages, ghost and insane kings. She wondered if ghosts really did linger in these secret passages. Man and women that had lost their way through the darkness and were slowly forgotten as they went mad and starved to death. She shuddered. 'Twas Nan's stories that brought this on. Lyanna scowled, though she knew in the dark it mattered not. "Where are we going?" she finally gathered enough wits to ask.
"Somewhere safe," the eunuch told her, his voice soft against her ears. "The King will not have you harmed."
She should have known. "My father, he shall worry when he hears about this." Her heart thundered in her chest.
They had bee walking for quite some time when he decided to speak again. "You father has made himself useful already by chasing down those who would wish to harm you." He suddenly stopped and Lyanna knocked into him. She murmured an apology. "I am fine, my lady. There is no need for an apology."
Another passage opened and Lyanna saw light. Torch light, to be sure, but light. Varys stepped out first and only then did she realise that the corridor and the passage were unevenly levelled. She stepped outside nonetheless and dusted her skirts.
Varys brought a finger to his lips and bade her to be silent. Lyanna merely nodded. She got the unshakable urge to hold her breath, but she dismissed it. Surely the danger was, more or less, past. The Spider led her through the quiet halls and she followed at his heel, trying to determine where they were. She had not been in these parts of the Keep. Thinking on that, Lyanna had not visited very much of anything, confined as she'd been to the rooms she'd been recuperating in.
"Welcome to Maegor's Holdfast, my lady," the Spider said, as they stood before two massive doors. Lyanna blanched at those words. Varys gave her a lazy smile.
"Why would I be brought here, my lord?" Maegor's Holdfast housed the royal apartments. No one in court beside those of royal blood had any right to enter this smaller castle within the Red Keep's walls. And that answered her question. Lyanna shook her head. The shock must have rendered her temporarily incapable of sound thinking. "None would dare enter without the King's permission."
Maegor's Holdfast was the safest place within the Red Keep. Varys nodded at her assessment. "I am merely following my orders, Lady Stark."
"Is my father aware of my presence in Maegor's Holdfast?" This was very much a statement towards the King's intention if anyone had ever thought to question it. Yet even so, Lyanna would be more at ease if her father did know where she was. In King's Landing he was one of the few souls she could trust. Her father, little Lady Frey and, it would seem, the King. He had proved that his hadn't been mere words.
"Aye, my lady. But none other must know other than those who already do. As far as all others are concerned, you have vanished." His explanation only made her more curious to hear the rest. Lyanna caught his sleeve again. He seemed to know what she wanted. "Robert Baratheon is most insistent."
"I know 'tis atrocious, yet I wish he'd perish once and for all." Would she ever be free of the man? She had escaped now, through some luck she hadn't been aware she possessed, but how much longer could it hold out?
"We blame you not, my lady," Varys replied swiftly. "Are you ready now, my lady?"
"As ready as I shall ever be." She approached the doors with Varys and the man tapped a combination against the wood. Lyanna was fairly sure she could reproduce the series of knocks from memory. It would not hurt to hear them once more, but it would not happen again, she realised as the doors opened.
She was ushered in, barely having the time to look at the White Cloaks who had opened the doors for her. She knew neither man. It mattered little anyhow. Lyanna breathed in relief and a smile crossed her face.
"You are here!" a thin voice yelled out and quite suddenly Lyanna found herself in possession of a small bundle of fine silks and soft curls. "You are finally here!" Princess Rhaenys exclaimed, clinging to her skirts.
A/N: Title from Richard Crashaw's "The Tear"