"I have received a letter, my lady. From Lord Stannis."
Lyanna stared at the anxious, worried face of Ser Lomas Estermont, the castellan of Storm's End. And Stannis' uncle on his mother's side.
"Maester Cressen told me that there was a letter for you as well, from Lord Stannis," Ser Lomas continued.
Lyanna nodded. "He wrote me about accepting the appointment as Hand of the King." She tried to smile. "Stannis must have his reasons for doing so, after assessing the situation in King's Landing, uncle."
"Yes, of course," Ser Lomas replied in a rush. "Lord Stannis would know best." He hesitated, clearing his throat a few times, avoiding Lyanna's gaze. "There is … another matter, my lady. Regarding your lord father."
Lyanna knew what Ser Lomas was referring to. "Stannis wrote to me about that as well." Lyanna tried to smile again, but failed miserably. "You should do as you must, of course. As my husband commanded." She almost choked on the last sentence, loathing herself and her husband in equal measure.
Lomas Estermont looked even more uncomfortable. "Maester Cressen and I have discussed the matter. We both agreed that perhaps it would be better if you are the one to speak to Lord Stark first, my lady. Explain the situation to him, as his daughter, so Lord Stark would understand why his continuing presence at Storm's End would be untenable at the moment."
Lyanna said nothing.
"Lord Stark would not take too kindly to the message coming from a lowly knight such as myself, I am certain."
"Stannis … he wrote that you would …"
Ser Lomas interrupted. "Lord Stannis is a good man, my lady. But he is young, and not always aware of certain … complexities. His ways are perhaps too blunt at times." He paused. "My lady, the last thing we need at the moment is to incur your lord father's - and House Stark's - enmity. If you could speak to your father, as a daughter making a plea for the safety of your husband and his people … your people as well, now that you are the lady of Storm's End …"
And what of my father's safety? But she saw the truth in Ser Lomas' words as well. "I will speak to my father," Lyanna said firmly. "But I am not certain how much my words can influence him," she continued, more hesitantly.
"You are not just Lord Stark's daughter, my lady. You are also the lady of Storm's End, and in your husband's absence, the one …"
"I know my duty, uncle," Lyanna replied sharply.
But did she, truly? Knew her duty? Lyanna wondered, after Ser Lomas left.
How do you choose? Between conflicting duties? Rhaegar had asked her once, when the night was dark, with no stars or even moonlight to guide them. She had no answer to give him then.
Rhaegar had made his choice after all, in the end. And he could no more help her now than she could help him make up his mind at the time.
She was sixteen on her last nameday. Too much, Lyanna thought. This is too much too soon. I am not ready.
But then she thought of her husband, only a few years older, but with heavier burdens riding on his shoulders. Of Robert, even younger when his father died and he became lord of Storm's End. Of Catelyn, her sister-in-law, who would not have hesitated for one moment to do her duty, Lyanna was certain.
Stannis should have married someone like Catelyn, Lyanna thought. They would have been more suited to one another, rather than Catelyn and Brandon. Or Stannis and Lyanna.
She read the letter from her husband again, for the tenth time that day. Those were words written by his own hands, she had no doubt of that. The words themselves, however, sounded as if they were written by a complete stranger. The news he was imparting to her were matters of great importance and with potentially dire consequences, yet he spoke of them as if he was telling her about the weather.
That is his way. With everyone. Blunt and to the point. Why should I be surprised? She admonished herself.
But I am his wife! Another part of her resisted. He had not written anything in the letter about himself, about how he was faring in King's Landing.
Are you well? Are you worried? Are you safe?
He had not allayed any of her concerns regarding those matters.
"Be sensible, Lya," Ned had told her. "Stannis would have to be careful about what he wrote, especially at a time like this. Other eyes could be watching."
Of course Ned was right. She knew that. Knew it in her bones. And yet …
I am stalling, Lyanna realized. Stalling from having that conversation with her father. No, it would not be a mere conversation. A confrontation, more likely.
"Lord Stark has been discussing certain … matters … with some of the stormlords, my lady," Ser Lomas had also told Lyanna during their difficult conversation.
"What matters?"
Ser Lomas shifted his eyes and avoided Lyanna' gaze. "Perhaps it is best if you ask him yourself, my lady. But it concerns something that should be under the purview of Lord Stannis as lord of Storm's End, and no one else. If there is to be a war, Lord Stannis is the only one with the right to call the banners, as well as deciding which side the stormlands will fight for." He turned to face her, finally, gazing at her meaningfully. "Of course, this was all happening before Lord Stark was aware that Lord Stannis had taken up the appointment as King Aerys' Hand. Perhaps Lord Stark was mistaken at the time as to where Lord Stannis' allegiance might lie."
Was her father influencing the stormlords to fight for Rhaegar Targaryen? Lyanna recalled the hushed conversations between her father and Stannis' grandfather.
"Are you speaking of your own lord father, uncle? Lord Estermont?"
To his credit, Ser Lomas did not flinch. He nodded. "My lord father … and many others, my lady. Lord Stark has been in touch with quite a few of the stormlords."
How had she missed that? She had been negligent, a foolish child worrying of foolish matters while danger was brewing under her own roof.
"Then perhaps you should be having a conversation with your father as well, uncle. To remind him of his duty as a sworn bannerman to House Baratheon. I will speak to my own father, and tell him to end it," Lyanna said forcefully, with a confidence she did not really feel.
Her father was in the solar, sitting on the chair Stannis used to sit on when he was home. Renly was sitting on the floor, his eyes gazing up full of amazement at Rickard Stark, listening to his story about the children of the forest and the old kings of the North.
"It is time for your lesson, Renly," Lyanna said.
"Just one more story. Please, Lya? Can I listen to one more story?" Renly pleaded, looking back and forth between Rickard and Lyanna.
"Well, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with one more story," Rickard Stark said, giving the child a bright smile.
No, Renly," Lyanna snapped. "You are late for your lesson already. Maester Cressen is waiting for you in your room."
Tears were threatening to stream down Renly's cheeks. "You're just like Stannis," he whined. "You're always angry and snapping at everyone these days."
Rickard Stark gathered the boy in his arms and comforted him. "She did not mean to yell at you, Renly. Lya is worried about Stannis. You understand that, don't you? Now, will you be a good boy and do what she asked you to do?"
Renly nodded swiftly. He went to Lyanna and embraced her tightly. "I'm sorry, Lya," he whispered. "I will go to my lesson now." She kissed the top of his head softly, and Renly ran out of the room.
When Renly's footsteps were finally inaudible, Lyanna turned to her father and said, "I wish you would not attempt to explain my actions to Renly, Father. I will do that myself."
Her father looked surprised, and almost hurt. "I was only trying to help you."
I do not need your help. She resisted from saying that to her father. "You indulge Renly far too much, Father. He has to spend time learning and reading as well, not just playing and listening to stories."
Her father scoffed. "Is this you speaking, or your husband?"
Lyanna ignored the jibe. "You would never have been this indulgent with your own children. You would have known that children need -"
"Perhaps I was too indulgent. With you, Lyanna. How else to explain why my own daughter could address her father so disrespectfully?"
Lyanna flushed. "I do not mean any disrespect, Father. But Stannis left Renly in my care. I am responsible for him."
"Then take responsibility!" Rickard Stark raised his voice. "Instead of stumbling around as if in the dark, afraid of your own shadow. I thought you were made of sterner stuff than this, Lyanna. You are a Stark of Winterfell! Or have you forgotten that?"
They hurt, her father's words. Pierced through her like a sword slicing her from ear-to-ear. But she knew the truth of those words as well. She had been a coward, afraid of everything. Afraid of every choice, ever decision, every action. It was as if the day she relinquished her love for Rhaegar, she had decided to relinquish herself as well.
No more. She was a Stark of Winterfell, yes, but she was also the lady of Storm's End.
This is me taking responsibility, Father. Forgive me, she prayed silently.
"You have to leave, Father. You have to go back to Winterfell, as soon as possible. I will not have you plotting and scheming with the stormlords under my husband's roof while he's away," Lyanna said, looking her father right in the eyes, her gaze never faltering.
Her father gazed at her thoughtfully, his expression indecipherable. "I would hardly call it plotting and scheming," he finally said.
"Those stormlords have all sworn loyalty to Stannis. He is the only one who has the right to call their banners," Lyanna replied.
"How safe do you think Stannis is in King's Landing, Lya? Have you thought of that?"
Lyanna paled. "What do you mean, Father? What have you heard?"
Her father sighed, stared at her growing belly, and looked away. "Nothing. I have not heard anything."
"Father, if you know something –"
"I was planning on leaving, perhaps in a week or so. But I will hasten my departure, if that is what you want."
"Father –"
"Ned will stay, of course. He promised Stannis that he would be here, in Stannis' absence. And Ned would not want to leave you, in any case. I will leave some of my men as well."
Lyanna shook her head. "There is no need for that. You –"
Her father looked offended. "Why? Are you worried I am leaving my men here to spy on you and Stannis?"
Lyanna was mortified. "No, Father, of course not. But it is such a long journey to Winterfell, you will need all of your men to keep you safe, especially now."
"I am not going to Winterfell."
Her heart sank. "Surely you are not thinking … King's Landing? Father –"
"I am not a reckless fool, child," her father reassured her. "It is not the right time. Yet. Things are still … in motion. There is someplace else I have to be."
Lyanna was not reassured at all.