The trouble with someone unburdening himself to you is, his burden is now your burden too.

A truly shared concern, in a way that Lyanna had not really felt with Rhaegar. She had wanted to say all the right things to Rhaegar, to ease his burden, to make him feel better, but she had not felt like his troubles were her responsibility too, the way she did now with Stannis.

Of course it is different. That is how it should be. Stannis is my husband, his life is my life too. Our life, together. Rhaegar was …

What was Rhaegar, exactly? Definition eluded her at that moment.

Her concerns were not allayed listening to her father questioning Stannis closely about the king and Rhaegar during the journey from King's Landing to Storm's End. Lyanna wondered if this was the important matter that her father wanted to discuss with Stannis. Her husband answered each question tersely, without much in the way of elaboration. She could see that Stannis was wary of her father's questions, perhaps even suspicious. Lyanna's father did not seem to notice Stannis' reluctance, or at least he acted as if he did not notice it, the stream of questions continuing until they almost reached Storm's End.

Lyanna was relieved when she finally spied the drum tower of Storm's End from a distance, looking like a spiked fist thrusting towards the sky.Durran Godsgrief's way of showing defiance to the gods, Robert had told her, when he regaled her with the tale of the building of the castle.

Elenei shielded him with her own body from the wrath of the gods, Robert had said, his voice full of awe.

Durran and Elenei were foolish and irresponsible. They thought of nothing and no one except themselves, had been Stannis' take on the matter.

Lyanna wondered if Elenei ever regretted it. If there were moments late at night, perhaps, when the sound of silence dominated, when Elenei thought of her father the sea-god and her mother the goddess of the wind.

Or if she had truly decided to cast all thoughts of them aside, forever, for Durran. For love.

Lyanna wondered too if Durran ever regretted it. If he ever looked at Elenei in later years and wondered whether their love was worth all the blood that had soiled the stormlands.

We are home, Lyanna cheered silently, when they finally reached the castle gate. And then was surprised at her own thought, that she was thinking of Storm's End as her home now. Stannis looked relieved too, Lyanna noticed, but his relief quickly faded into irritation when he caught sight of Renly running towards them, shouting and yelling in excitement. Lyanna thought it very sweet of Renly to come out to greet them, and she was relieved to see that the boy seemed well and happy. But one look at Stannis' expression and she knew he disapproved of Renly's behavior.

He is much too hard on the boy, Lyanna thought, not for the first time since her marriage.

Is this how he will be as a father too?

What a convoluted affair a marriage truly is, Lyanna contemplated. A tangled web of trust, mistrust, understanding and misunderstanding. Stannis had finally unburdened himself to her, had shared his concerns with her as she had wanted and expected, and yet that did not solve everything in their marriage.

Had she been expecting that it would? No, she insisted, I am not that naive.

Aren't you?

She did not have a chance to speak to her husband that night. The journey had so exhausted her, Lyanna fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow after dinner. Her husband spoke with Maester Cressen late into the night, and she did not notice what time he finally came to bed. When she woke in the morning, he was already gone. Showing Ned where Robert was buried, according to Maester Cressen. Lyanna felt guilty. She should have offered to take Ned there herself.

"Is Patchface still unwell?" She asked the maester at the end of their conversation.

"He is mending, my lady," Cressen replied gravely. "The fever was at its peak not three days ago. I was worried we might lose him, in fact. But he seems to have rallied now."

"You did not mention his illness in your letter, Maester Cressen," Lyanna said softly.

"Forgive me, my lady. If there was any chance of Renly getting the fever too, I would have mentioned it, of course. But I have determined early on that the fever is not contagious."

You did not think that Stannis and I would care what happened to that fool, Lyanna thought. She could not blame the maester for thinking that about herself. Lyanna had seldom concerned herself with the fool. His songs and words frightened her, in truth, sounding so much like ominous threats to Lyanna's ears. And Patchface would look at her sometimes with a strange smile on his face, as if he was in possession of some secret about her, as if he could see through her, inside her, to the deep dark core no one else could see.

I'm being foolish, she chastised herself. He is an unfortunate soul, robbed of his mind. That is all there is to it.

Stannis had allowed the fool to remain at Storm's End, a constant reminder of the day the sea had robbed Stannis and his brothers of their father and mother. Did he care for Patchface?

I have never heard him yell at Patchface, the way he often does at Renly, Lyanna recalled. But perhaps that was only because getting angry at an insensible fool was a fool's errand.

Later that day, Lyanna escorted Ned and Benjen to tour the castle. Her father had declined to accompany them. "There will be plenty of time later," he had replied. Lord Rickard Stark was having fun spending time with Renly, the boy telling him stories, acting out various parts, even putting on costumes.

"I hope my grandson will be as clever as Renly," Lyanna's father had told her at dinner last night. Would he be disappointed if the child she was carrying turned out to be a girl? Would Stannis? She would have to bear him at least one son, she knew, to be the heir of Storm's End. But this child, this child growing inside her now, she had been thinking of this child as a 'she' from the very beginning.

His mother had been convinced that she was carrying a girl when she was pregnant with Renly, Stannis had told Lyanna. Cassana Baratheon even had a name already picked out for that baby. Shireen. Shireen Baratheon. But the child turned out to be a boy, and he was named Renly instead. And his mother never lived to see Renly grow his first teeth, take his first step, or say his first word.

If this child is a girl, we will name her Shireen. "Shireen Baratheon," she tried saying the name out loud. It felt right to Lyanna.

"Who's Shireen Baratheon?" Benjen asked. "Another one of those Baratheons famous for their fury?"

Lyanna's face reddened. She had forgotten that she was with her brothers for a moment.

Ned was smiling. "Is it a name for the baby, Lya? If it's a girl?"

Benjen was grinning widely. "What if it's a boy? What will you call it?"

"The baby is not an 'it'!" Lyanna protested, pretending to be annoyed so that her brothers would move on to other subjects. But she underestimated them, obviously. Benjen would not let it go, and Ned was surprisingly gleeful too, joining in on the speculation.

"If it's a boy, will you name him after Stannis' father? Steffon Baratheon, isn't it?" Ned asked.

Lyanna shook her head. "I doubt it. Stannis is not exactly fond of the tradition of naming your child after the dead. Especially the recently dead.They will always feel second-best, according to Stannis."

Ned nodded. "That makes sense." He paused, his brows creasing, looking concerned. "But do you agree with him, Lya? It will be your child too, not just his."

She smiled. "I agree, actually. I don't want my children to feel like they have to live up to some unattainable standard set by their namesake. And you know how it is with the dead, we tend to romanticize them, magnifying their glories tenfold and forgetting their flaws."

"Well, I guess that rules out 'Robert' too," Benjen said. Lyanna was surprised, it had not occurred to her at all to name a son of hers after Robert. Should it have? She wondered suddenly.

"Shireen is a beautiful name," Ned said.

"It sounds almost too … exotic," Benjen mused. "Are you sure your law-and-order, by-the-book husband will agree to it?" He laughed.

Lyanna's irritation was real this time. "I don't appreciate you making fun of my husband. Even if you and Brandon view him with derision, he is part of our family now."

"But I'm not making fun of him! I'm quite sure Stannis would take that as a compliment," Benjen replied with wide-eyed innocence that did not fool Lyanna for one moment.

"It is not about how Stannis might take it, it is about your own intention," Lyanna said, her tone gentler this time. She did not want to quarrel with her brother, she might not see him again for a long time after this.

"You laughed at him too, after you met him for the first time. You mocked the way he insisted that you should call him Lord Baratheon, and not Lord Stannis." Benjen's tone was poised between aggrieved and conciliatory, as if he could not decide whether to be annoyed or contrite.

"He was not my husband at the time," Lyanna replied. "He is now. I don't like it when my husband is mocked and made fun of, especially by my own brothers. Stannis himself might not care, but I do."

"Then I will not do it. For your sake, Lya," Benjen said, looking solemn.

She kissed her youngest brother on his cheek. "Thank you."

"You truly are married now, aren't you?" Ned whispered to her.

"What do you mean?" Lyanna asked, surprised. "I have been married for many months."

"A wedding ceremony is not the same as a marriage," Ned replied.

Lyanna pondered the meaning of those words, as she made her way to Patchface's room later. She thought it her duty as the lady of Storm's End to visit him; he was living under their care and protection after all. Her husband was already in the room, standing stiffly beside the fool's bed, intently watching Patchface's sleeping face as if he could find the answer to a very important question there.

"His songs frightened me too, sometimes," Stannis broke the silence after a while. Too? So he knew about her fear.

"What do you think they're really about? His songs?" Lyanna asked, her hand reaching for her husband.

"Who knows? I doubt he knows it himself."

"They seem … almost like … a warning," Lyanna said. She turned her face away, embarrassed. "I'm being silly."

"A warning?"

A warning not from him, but from someone else, or something else, conveyed through him. Lyanna was pondering whether to tell her husband sounded foolish even to her own ears, it would probably sound even more foolish to her husband's southerner ears. Lyanna might not have spent a lot of time praying in the godswood lately, but she had been a child of the north, raised with stories about the children of the forest and what roamed beyond the Wall. Not so for Stannis.

"So this is the fool who lives while your father and mother died." Her father's voice interrupted Lyanna's consideration. "I am amazed you still keep him here, Stannis. At Storm's End, to this day."

"There is nowhere else for him to go. My lord father bought the fool, he is the Baratheon's responsibility until the end of his days," Stannis replied.

"Perhaps he is the happiest creature among us, living in his own dream world, free of worries and concerns," Lyanna's father said, his expression thoughtful.

"I would not want to live in a dream world. I want to live knowing the truth, always," Stannis said, his eyes never leaving Rickard Stark's face.

Rickard Stark nodded. "Knowing the truth, and facing it without fear. I think it's time for us to have that conversation, Stannis."