Lyanna Stark
Lyanna ran through the halls of Winterfell, laughing as she went. Behind her she could here Benjen panting and struggling to keep up with her, calling out occasionally for her to slow down. Ignoring him she carried on, determined to reach the courtyard in time. One of the guards had just told her the news, Ned's party had been spotted on the horizon.
It had been eight years since her middle brother left, eight years with only a handful of visits scattered over the course of them. The last visit had been more than a year ago, and Ned had been so much like she remembered, serious and brooding, but immensely happy to be home. He'd gone on about their adventures in the Vale, with his foster brothers, Artys and Robert. Lyanna had been so jealous, father wouldn't let her have adventures like that. The closest she got these days was when she was allowed to go riding.
Usually it would be Brandon and Benjen who went with her then, and they didn't care if she raced them and didn't act like a lady. Lyanna loved those chances to be free, almost as she loved her sparring lessons with Benjen in the godswood.. Lessons that she and her youngest brother took every precaution they could think of to keep secret from their father. In truth though Benjen wasn't a very good teacher, she was a better blade than him and he could only pass on more lessons as he was taught them by Ser Rodrick, the master-at-arms.
Shoving open the door to the courtyard Lyanna was struck across the face with a lash of the bitter northern cold. It didn't bother her much though, she was dressed warmly in furs and a stout woolen dress that her father had insisted she wear to greet the visitors. Father was demanding that she act like a lady when Ned and his friends arrived. He said that her future husband, Robert Baratheon, would be among them and she needed to impress him by being a proper lady.
Lyanna wasn't to thrilled by the idea of marrying the southern lord, especially since she'd only Ned's stories to go off of. True Ned said he was brave and handsome and charming, but he'd also mentioned that his friend had a wandering eye when it came to women, and that worried her. How could she love a man she'd never met who was with a different woman every other night, even after they where married. Sighing Lyanna tugged her furs tighter about herself and strode across the yard.
Brandon and his squire, Ethan Glover, where sparring just inside the main gate, Brandon trying to give the younger man pointers as he struck his pupil's blade aside again and again. Not that he appeared to be having much luck, Lyanna could see that Ethan's foot work was off and he wasn't keeping his shield high enough to block Brandon's counter attacks. Still the boy was doggedly trying to follow Brandon's advice as it came.
Brandon parried another of Ethan's strikes, "No Ethan, you're not stepping with the strike like I said. You're not a tree, don't root yourself to the ground like one." Brandon began to move as he spoke, launching a pair of strikes against the now frantically defending Ethan, "You want to move as you fight, make your opponent guess as to where your next strike will come from."
Lyanna turned away from the two and looked at the gates, they where open as always, snow whipping in light flurries outside them as she watched. Above them two guards huddled around a brazier, eyes scanning the road beyond for travelers. She knew that more men where within the two towers flanking the gate, likely huddled about their own fires as they played at dice and sipped warmed ale to keep the cold out of them. Aside from the two guards above the gate and Brandon's sparring match with Ethan the courtyard was empty,everyone was hidden inside against the cold, and Lyanna felt a twinge of sadness because of it.
Ned wouldn't be receiving a grand homecoming, not like he deserved, true father had a decent feast planned for tonight, with a handful of the nearby lords attending. But other than that there where no celebrations prepared for the return of her absent brother. Shaking her head Lyanna strode for the stables, if she was going to be out here waiting for Ned's arrival she may as well do it someplace warm. Besides, she hadn't checked on her horse yet today, and Sygerrik got restless when she didn't see to him.
The stables where the same as they had been her entire life,warm from the heat of the horses and smelling of sweat, horseflesh and hay. Stalls lined both walls, and Lyanna made her way down them to Sygerrik's stall. Most ladies in the Seven Kingdoms rode mares or filly's when they did go riding. But Lyanna had always had a gift with horses, and had managed to convince her father to let her ride a gelding. Sygerrik was a particularly fine example of horseflesh, a tall and muscular grey that Lord Ryswell had given her as a gift during one of her and Brandon's many visits to the Rills and Ryder Hall.
Lyanna reached up and stroked the big horse's nose with one gloved hand, and Sygerrik whickered gently into her hand as he nudged her, looking for treats. Smiling Lyanna ran her other hand along his jaw to rest behind his ear, rubbing the spot gently as she spoke to the horse softly, "No treats for you today my beautiful boy. Hullen says that you've had to many, and you'll get fat if I give you many more."
Sygerrik gave an almost derisive snort into her hand, seemingly in response to her statement, and Lyanna laughed quietly, "I know, I don't believe him either. But you know we have to listen to him. He is the stablemaster after all." The horse snorted once more as if in acceptance, and Lyanna stroked his nose again to calm her.
Behind her she heard the stable door open and close, and Benjen's voice came drifting to her as her younger brother called softly, "Lya? Are you in here?" Rounding the corner Benjen saw her and quickly made his way over, trying to look serious as he whispered to her, "We shouldn't be in here Lya, father said to stay clean, and especially to stay out of the stables."
She stifled a laugh, Benjen was three years her junior, tall for his age at eleven but skinny as a pole. One of her favorite pastimes was playing pranks on her little brother, who usually took them quiet well, but had a tendency of following their father's rules and orders a little to closely. She'd never been able to accept father's restrictions very well, something she and Brandon share. The Wolfsblood their father called it, making them restless and reckless, keen to listen to their hearts over others words.
Just as Lyanna opened her mouth to respond to her brother with a teasing jest, a shout went up outside. She and Ben exchanged glances, and then bolted for the door. They emerged from the stables just as another shout went up from the guards atop the gates. From the flurries outside the gate a party of horsemen where emerging. Nearly forty riders spilled out into the courtyard as the Lyanna and Benjen watched. Most of them where obviously northmen, bearded men clad in furs and plate, the merman of White Harbor on their shields and chests. But at the core of the emerging party was another group, just over a dozen strong, wearing falcons and moons on their surcoats and looking decidedly less comfortable in their furs.
From this smaller group three riders pushed their way to the front. The two men lagging behind the leader where both exceptionally large and rather handsome men, one black haired with a rough stubble and the other blonde with a short but shaggy beard. But it was the lead rider who caught Lyanna's attention. Tall and lean, with medium length brown hair hanging lank about his shoulders and warm grey eyes, Ned.
Ned and his friends swung easily from their horses as Brandon strode across the courtyard, still clad in his sparring gear, to meet them. Lyanna was moving towards them as the two brothers stopped and seemed to size each other up. Neither seemingly sure how to greet the other after nearly a year without seeing each other. As Brandon opened his mouth to break the silence Lyanna did it for him, screaming happily, "Ned!"
Her brother turned in her direction confusedly, completely unprepared for the flying hug that struck him full in the chest. As Ned stumbled back slightly with a grunt beneath her attack, Lyanna wrapped her arms around him and smiled, "We missed you Ned."
Brandon began laughing as Ned struggled to catch his breath between the hug and the surprise. After a moment though he managed to gasp out a response as he pulled his arms tight around Lyanna, whispering as he did so, "I missed you too Lya." For a moment they held the hug, before Benjen replicated Lyanna's charging hug, this time catching both of them with the maneuver.
Luckily Ned managed to keep his balance as their youngest sibling slammed into them, and even managed a chuckle as Benjen hugged him tightly as well, "And you as well Ben." As Ned struggled to hug them both Lyanna peered out from under Ned's arms at Brandon, cocking an eyebrow meaningfully. The eldest Stark sibling merely laughed and held up his hands, shaking his head as he did so. Until Lyanna jerked her head at him and mouthed "now".
Still laughing Brandon closed with his siblings and wrapped them all in a hug, completing the group hug as the others started laughing as well. After another few moments of embracing they all managed to untangle themselves easily enough, Ned flushing with embarrassment as he realized that his friends had been watching the entire time, both of them smiling with amusement at their foster brother's expense. As they separated Lyanna took a moment to look both of them over.
The blonde one was slightly shorter, but handsomer. His beard was short but shaggy and looked fairly new on his face, at least if the fact that he kept reaching up to itch it was any indication. He was broad shouldered and powerful looking, with massive hands and a large cloak made from a shadowcat that made his already impressive size seem even more imposing. Still there was kindness in his grey eyes, and a sweet gentleness in the brotherly smile that he gave Ned. As the man caught her looking at him he ducked his head, averting his gaze to the ground beneath his boots, an action which made Lyanna smile slightly.
The second man, the darker one, was very different. He stood just a few inches taller than the blonde, and his features where rougher, his beard just stubble and seemingly an after thought. Where his companion wore the falcon and moon of house Arryn this one wore a rearing black stag on gold. Which meant he would be her betrothed, Robert Baratheon. Robert almost reminded her of Brandon when she looked at him with his somewhat cocky smile, the restless look in his eyes, and the way he held his shoulders, it was like he was constantly ready for a fight. When he caught her gaze Robert offered her a wide and charming smile, one which Lyanna returned, playing to her father's wishes for a proper lady.
She turned back to Ned just as he regained his composure enough to begin speaking, "I suppose I should probable introduce you all. Artys, Robert, this is my family. Brandon, my older brother. Lyanna, my sister, and Benjen, the pup." As he spoke he gestured to each of them in turn, Brandon and Benjen giving slight bows as Lyanna curtsied, cursing this dress as she did so. Turning to his friends Ned carried on, "And allow me to introduce, Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End, and Ser Artys Arryn, heir to the Vale."
Robert stepped forward and bowed to Lyanna's brothers, "A pleasure to meet you my lords. Ned's said much about you both." With that the big man took one of Lyanna's hands and kissed the knuckles of it gently, offering her another smile, "And he's said even more about you my lady." As his head was bowed Lyanna shot Ned a suspicious glance Ned's way, what had he mentioned about her? Her brother only smiled back at her innocently.
As Robert stepped away Artys managed his own polite bow, with a muttered, "My lords. My lady Lyanna." For a moment Lyanna was confused, this man was hardly the adventurous and brave Artys Arryn that Ned had mentioned on his last visit. Then she recalled what Ned had said about Artys' being a very quiet person, one who didn't take well to speaking with new people.
With the introductions out of the way they all stood awkwardly for a few moments before Brandon coughed loudly, "Father will be waiting for us in the Great Hall. Fynn will be sure to show your men to a barracks where they can rest, and we'll have the kitchen send them food and ale. Hullen will see to your horses."
Lyanna looked about and noticed that while she'd been occupied with Ned and his friends a handful of guardsmen had appeared from the gatehouse and Hullen and nearly a dozen stableboys now stood in the doorway of the stables. At Brandon's words Hullen and his men darted forward and began taking reins, leading horses into the warmth of the stables as one of the guards nodded and began leading Ned's escort into the keep.
Just two men remained behind from the escort. Two fellows not much older than herself, burly and black haired, looking so much alike they had to be related in some way and with a bronze field covered in black studs on their surcoats. They fell in behind Artys and Lyanna had to think for a moment before placing the sigil, Royces from the Vale. Which meant they where likely Artys' cousins, and maybe even his squires. Realizing that the two had remained Artys smiled apologetically, "These are my cousins, Albar and Andar." Turning to the two of them the Arryn man muttered something that Lyanna couldn't hear and the cousins nodded before trotting off after the rest of the escort.
With that handled their little group began making for the Great Hall. Lyanna and Benjen quickly falling in flanking Ned as Robert walked in front with Brandon, Artys bringing up the rear. After a moment Lyanna noticed that Benjen had dropped back to Artys and was chattering away questions about the Vale and knighthood to the man. Questions which the big Valeman answered cheerfully, slowly seeming to open up to the youngest Stark.
The Great Hall was just a short walk across the courtyard and then down a narrow hallway. Two guardsmen pushed the doors open for them as they approached, and in they all stepped. Winterfell's hall was a massive thing, oaken tables stretching across most of it, before they ended before a raised stone dais. Atop that dais sat the lord's chair, a massive thing carved of ironwood and weirwood, the arm rests carved in the shape of snarling wolves and First Men runes scrawling across the back of it.
In that chair sat Lyanna's father, Lord Rickard Stark was an aging man, tall and lean but with a shaggy brown beard starting to go to grey. He watched them with the same grey eyes he'd passed on to all of his children, not saying a word as the little group crossed the hall. Lyanna suppressed a satisfied smirk as she saw Robert and Artys both look around the hall in amazement while they crossed it. But when they reached her father she made sure that smirk was hidden deep.
Their column fanned out so that the six young nobles now stood in a rough line before the dais, Robert, Ned and Artys on one side and the remaining Stark children on the other. Lyanna held her breath as her father remained silent for a moment, scanning over them all with that quiet intensity that he'd always maintained. After a moment though he stood from his seat and spoke, "Ned. Its good to see you son, its been far to long since you last visited." He turned to Artys and Robert, "Lord Baratheon, Ser Artys, welcome to Winterfell."
Artys Arryn
Artys sighed happily as he looked out over the courtyard of Winterfell. It had been two days since he'd arrived in the fortress of the Starks and he had to admit that the place surpassed his wildest expectations. The massive fortress sprawled far larger than even the Gates of the Moon did, with two thick walls surrounding the main keep. Winterfell had a sort of ancient beauty about it, not like the Eyrie's lofty white towers, but a beauty that came from the strength in its walls.
The Starks themselves had made the castle all the more impressive. They'd greeted Artys and Robert with great hospitality. Brandon Stark was a charming man, a year Artys senior at eighteen namedays and nearly as tall as him. The Stark heir had shown the around his home personally and had sparred with them after the tour. Artys had to admit he was a fine swordsman, managing after a close fight to best Robert and putting Artys through a stiff battle before he'd managed to disarm the Stark. Which had caused Brandon to laugh and clap him on the back, promising that Artys would never replicate the feat.
Lyanna was much like her older brother it seemed, well at least from the handful of glimpses that Artys had caught of her when he wasn't studying his boots. She was as beautiful as Ned had said, though Artys couldn't help but think her beauty was like Winterfell's almost, coming from a sort of wild strength that Lyanna carried about herself. Though she'd been a finely behaved noble lady for most of the time that Artys had been around he'd caught glimpses of that strength, primarily in the form of a fire in her eyes when she was annoyed or excited. Still, Lyanna clearly loved her brother's very much and Artys had the feeling that Robert would have his hands full with her.
Benjen, the youngest of the Starks, was a fine lad too, eager for Artys' tales of the south and for help with his swordsmanship, especially after watching Artys beat Brandon. Something which the boy said that no one in Winterfell had managed to do in years. He'd asked Artys to help him spar after that, and Artys couldn't think of a reason to say no to him. So they'd spent half the morning today in the sparring yard.
Meanwhile Brandon and Robert had slipped off into the Wolfswood to go hunting, saying that they'd return the next evening, and Ned was speaking with his father, something that he'd been doing often since their arrival. So now, with the lesson done and Benjen having run off to do whatever it was northmen did in the winter, Artys was left to his own devices.
Artys glanced around the courtyard once more, noting how quiet it was. Only three people where in sight, a pair of guardsman manning the gate and a lone servant splitting wood next to the stables. Ignoring the three of them Artys allowed his eyes to settle on the gate to one side of the courtyard. Brandon had mentioned that through that gate lay the godswood, which Winterfell had actually been built around. Artys remembered all the tales that Ned had told on the way here about the godswood of Winterfell and its beauty.
Shrugging he looked up at the sun, it was only mid morning, still hours until the midday meal, he might as well have a look at the godswood while he had the chance, besides he'd been curious to see it the entire journey here. Moving across the courtyard Artys pushed open the postern gate set into the larger gate and slipped through. What he was greeted with took his breath away.
There where no paths here like he'd seen in the handful of godswoods that remained in the Vale. No carefully groomed groves of trees and beds of flowers. It was wild here, ancient ironwoods and firs standing as if, by the hand of some giant god, a forest had been lifted from its rightful place and dropped to nestle within the walls of Winterfell. Little light filtered down through the thick branches above, but what light there was revealed a ground littered with gnarled roots and with only a slightly clearer patch of earth that might have been a path snaking into the trees.
Stepping carefully into the godswood Artys made his way towards the heart of the grove, staring about him in wonder. The cold seemed to be less here even, and he no longer felt chilled in his sweat soaked sparring clothes as he walked among the trees. As he made his way towards the center, following the slight trail before him, a noise began to reach his ears. At first it was merely the soft sound of rustling leaves and wind among the trunks that could be heard, yet now there was another sound joining it. The clack of wood on wood, coming in fits and bursts. Series of clashes and then periods of silence.
Curiosity growing Artys delved deeper into the wood, his focus slipping from his surroundings to the sounds ahead of him. Soon voices, soft and muffled by thick trunks between him and them, joined the sound of clashing wood. Artys began to watch his steps, eager for a glimpse at whom would be sparring, for that is what the noise had to be, in the godswood. Stepping over another root the heart of the wood came into view.
Standing proud in the center of the godswood was a massive heart tree, one that dwarfed Artys' one on the Giant's Lance. No trees grew around it for thirty paces, and Artys couldn't help but see it as subjects bowing away before their king. Four steaming pools surrounded the great weirwood, and Artys guessed them to be some of the hot springs that Ned said warmed the walls of Winterfell. But it was what was fighting in the center of the clearing that gave Artys pause.
Two small figures armed with wooden training swords danced in the shadow of the great weirwood. One was taller, thin and slightly gawky, and after a few moments Artys realized it was Benjen, so this was what the boy had run off so urgently to do after their sparring match. The second figure was both shorter and slighter than the Stark boy, wearing dirty sparring clothes to large for their slim frame. A similarly battered leather helm hid their features as they fought with Benjen, moving with speed and grace to meet the larger boy's attacks head on.
Watching the fight unfold Artys noted that the smaller fighter was the more skilled combatant and was holding their ground well against Benjen, despite his advantages in reach and strength. Thought the smaller figure's footwork and the way they held a sword where slightly off, something that any decent master-at-arms could fix. So maybe they hadn't had a formal training?Artys settled in behind an ironwood to continue observing the battle, curiousity still piqued.
The fight wore on for another few minutes, deadlocked. It was then that Benjen managed to sweep his opponent's legs from under him with a well placed leg. Artys smiled, he'd taught the boy that move less than an hour ago when they'd sparred. Benjen's maneuver sent his foe sprawling and their helmet tumbling from their head.
Artys smile faded to shock as he saw who was beneath it. Lyanna Stark. The polite and stately young lady who he had seen about Winterfell for the past two days was gone. In her place was a sweaty and fierce young woman who looked like she belonged on a battlefield, her eyes alight with the joy of the fight. Yet for an instant Artys couldn't help but think that it did nothing to diminish her beauty. Pushing the thought from his head Artys watched as Lyanna stood and laughed with her brother at her defeat, "Well fought Ben, I think that might be the first time you've actually beaten me."
Benjen responded to her teasing words with a wide grin of his own, "Ser Artys showed me that earlier. Did you see him fight Brandon? He's got to be one of the best swords I've ever seen!"
Artys tried to keep from smiling at the young boy's words of praise for him, flattered as he was. Lyanna just shook her head and chuckled however, "I saw him alright, I don't think anyone's ever beaten Brandon like that. Hurt his pride a little bit, no matter how much he smiled."
Benjen carried on even as she spoke, seemingly not hearing his sister's response as he chattered on, "And his cloak! Did you hear how he got it? He killed the shadowcat himself, with a hunting knife, when he was just thirteen!"
This time Lyanna reached out and poked her brother in the chest gently with her practice sword, "Is that a little bit of hero worship I hear Ben?" Lyanna's voice was still teasing, yet Benjen flushed red slightly from embarrassment.
Lyanna's teasing tone vanished as she looked up at the sun, barely visible through the canopy overhead, "We've got time for you to show me what Artys taught you in the yard if we hurry, and maybe one more bout before I have to go get ready for the midday meal." She looked down at herself and her voice became somewhat bemused, "Father will throw a fit if he sees me like this, especially with guests in the keep."
That raised Artys' eyebrow, so their father didn't know they where sparring here? Thinking back to the quiet but rigidly proud lord he'd seen in the great hall Artys didn't actually find that very surprising. Lord Stark seemed like the kind of lord who, while he might dote upon his daughter, would never allow her to get away with something like this if he knew.
Settling once more behind his tree Artys watched Benjen struggle to show Lyanna the stances and the footwork Artys had shown him earlier in the yard. After watching Benjen demonstrate it imperfectly Artys sighed to himself and began to stride out into the clearing, if they where going to learn they may as well do it right. Neither Stark child heard him as he approached, Benjen staring at Lyanna's feet and sword as he tried to get her into the right position, "I think that's right. Artys called it the, Dragon's Tail."
Artys coughed lightly and spoke, "Actually her left foot's not cocked enough, and she's holding the blade to high, it should be coming down from her hip to just a few inches off the ground."
Both Stark's jumped in surprise, Benjen stumbling away from his sister with wide eyes as his mouth worked like a fish trying to breathe air. Lyanna on the other hand spun in place and merely stared at Artys, her eyes even wider than her brothers and her face holding a look of pure terror and horror the like of which Artys had never seen. The look of someone who'd just seen all their dreams and happiness crushed in a single mailed gauntlet.
Artys merely waited for a moment as both of the young warriors tried to gain some sense of composure. It was Benjen who managed to find his words first, stumbling as they where, "Ser Artys! We where just, uh I was just...I was..." He trailed off into silence when he couldn't come up with a credible excuse. Meanwhile Lyanna's face just darkened with every word out of her brothers mouth.
Artys shook his head and gave them both a slight smile, "Benjen I think it's fairly obvious what you're doing here. Correct?" Benjen nodded slowly, his face turning dejected. Ignoring the boy's misery Artys instead turned to Lyanna, "Well? Let's see it?"
Lyanna looked confused, and glanced to Benjen, not that her brother had any input. Sighing Artys gestured to her feet, "Let's see you try the stance again. You where rather close to it last time." Uncertainty replacing the dark look on her face Lyanna shuffled her feet into position and held her sword out behind her, trailing it like a tail. Artys inspected her feet, and nudged one back slightly with his own boot, "There, that's how your feet are supposed to go. No fault on Benjen, I didn't show him it more than twice."
Now he stepped back, and gestured for Lyanna to continue, "Now show me the rest of your forms."
This time Lyanna jumped to the request more quickly, dropping into a more familiar guard which she was obviously comfortable with. She moved from that to another, then another, and on through all the basic forms that every squire or guardsman was taught. By the time she was through Artys was nodding once more, "Not bad. Now start them again."
As she started the forms again Artys stopped her in each one, telling her to pull an elbow in tighter here, cock a foot more there, shift the point of her blade up just so. For a quarter hour he helped her through her forms, then looked up at the sun just as Lyanna had before. Smiling he looked back to her, "Well we've a little time before the midday meal, wouldn't you say so?"
Lyanna slowly nodded this time, aside from a handful of quick questions she'd been quiet during the time which Artys had corrected her forms, clearly uncertain. Artys glanced to Benjen, who was watching the two of them, still confused. Giving a quick whistle to get the boy's attention Artys gestured to Benjen's sword as the boy's head snapped around, "Let me see that would you?"
Benjen tossed the blade to him after a moment's hesitation, and Artys caught it easily. Lyanna's gaze turned suspicious once more as he backed away from her, swinging the sword experimentally. Once about five paces separated them Artys stopped and gave her a grin, "Well? Come at me. Lets see how good you are Lyanna."
Author's Note: So yeah, I lied. This chapter came a lot sooner than I thought it would. But hey what can I say? I'm full of ideas right now and this sure beats my math homework. To answer a few questions that someone asked; Artys would be around Jaime's level of skill with a sword, maybe a little bit better. Also women are generally attracted to him, but he never plays up on it so he kinda just flies under the radar for most of them. And before everyone gets excited because ArtysXLyanna, I'm not entirely certain that's where this is gonna go as of yet. So just hold your horses and we'll see what happens shall we?
I'd genuinly like to thank you all for following this, I never dreamed I'd get so many followers when I started writing this. Much less over a hundred in less than a week! Thank you all a ton. As always feel free to review, I'd love the feedback and suggestions. And I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Until nextime
-S