Brandon

The feasting hall was crowded. The tables were lined with lords and ladies from almost every notable house in the realm, to the point that there wasn't room for everyone. He sat between Ned and Lyanna; on Ned's other side was Robert Baratheon, and on Lyanna's other side was Howland Reed. Benjen sat next to Lord Howland, on the end of the little group of Starks. They were sitting not far from the high table, where King Aerys himself sat. Brandon had been shocked to see him; he was nearly withered away, with a paranoid look in his eyes. He understood now why they called him the Mad King, though he was not fool enough to say it in the man's presence.

On Robert Baratheon's other side sat Prince Rhaegar's former squire, Ser Richard Lonmouth. They were talking together and drinking. He wondered why Robert wasn't sitting next to his sister, but perhaps it was for the best. Lyanna had a look of wild excitement in her eyes, and Brandon couldn't help but smile. He may personally be more interested in the joust, but his sister loved the festivities, and he loved to see her happy. Benjen looked excited too, eyeing all the people in the hall with fascination. He was one of the youngest people in attendance, with only a couple of children who looked younger than him, but that didn't seem to bother him. Lord Howland looked nervous, but had an air of excitement around him all the same. Ned, on the other hand, looked a bit uninterested in the proceedings, quiet as always. "Something wrong?" he asked, just to make sure there wasn't more to it.

Ned looked around him at Lyanna, then beside him at his friend Robert, and shrugged. "Nothing particularly wrong, I suppose."

"I hear the food is supposed to be excellent," Brandon said.

"I should hope so," Ned said. "This is the most expensive tourney the realm has ever seen. Makes you wonder how Lord Whent afforded it, but I suppose it's not our place to question."

Brandon had heard rumors on the subject, though he didn't dare voice them here. "Well, either way, it'll be a grand occasion," he said with a smile. "Maybe you'll even find yourself a nice girl, Ned."

His brother looked a bit uncomfortable at the suggestion. "I suppose anything is possible."

Lyanna chuckled. "He'd have to talk to a girl first."

"Hey now," Ned said. "That's not funny, Lya. I talk to girls."

"I don't count, Ned."

Robert Baratheon gave a hearty laugh. "I wish you'd talk to more girls, Ned." He glanced at Brandon and shook his head. "Believe me, I've tried."

"Alright now," Ned said. "That's quite enough."

Lyanna was smirking her mischievous grin, while beside her Lord Howland had a bit of a scandalized look on his face. On his other side, Benjen was grinning. Robert Baratheon was giving the same boisterous grin he always did, and resumed drinking.

As the first course was served, Brandon found that it was, indeed, excellent, one of the best soups he'd ever had. Indeed, all of the courses proved delicious, and even Ned seemed in a jovial mood as they ate. He laughed and rolled his eyes at many of Robert's jokes, and Brandon thought he rather liked the young lord of Storm's End. Lyanna and Howland were talking amiably, and Benjen seemed to alternate between talking with them and drinking wine. Too much wine for a boy his age. As they finished the meal and the dessert course was served, Prince Rhaegar himself stood before the crowd to perform a song.

"Oh, I hear he's an excellent singer," Lyanna said.

"I've heard that too," Ned agreed.

Brandon had heard it as well. In fact, he had heard that the prince preferred singing to fighting, which was odd for a prince, in his mind. But he stood up before the crowd with his harp, and Brandon watched. He began to play, and to sing. He sang a song about Jenny of Oldstones, and the rumours of his skill with music proved true. Brandon had never heard a finer song.

Beside him, Lyanna sighed, and when he turned to look at her, he saw that she was crying.

When the song ended, the hall was silent, then it broke into applause. Benjen turned to Lyanna and shook his head. "Are you crying? At a song?" He snorted a laugh, and Brandon exchanged a quick look with Ned, who looked amused.

Quick as a whip, Lyanna picked up her wine cup, reached around Lord Howland, and dumped it out on Ben's head. "Oh, look at that, dear brother," she said airily. "Seems you're crying tears of wine."

Lord Howland laughed, and Benjen sputtered and fell silent, picking up a cloth and using it to wipe his face.

Ned was laughing, too, and Brandon couldn't help but chuckle, though he felt sorry for his littlest brother. Robert Baratheon was laughing too, and looking at Lyanna with admiration in his eyes.

People had started moving up from the tables to dance, and Robert Baratheon was one of the first to get up, immediately asking Lyanna for a dance. She didn't look pleased, but she took his hand and went onto the dance floor. Howland Reed got up as well, though he wasn't dancing. After a dance or two had passed, Brandon rose, and said, "Ned? Are you coming?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ned said. "Maybe I'll stay here and protect Ben from any more wine attackers."

Benjen's cheeks flushed as red as the wine. "Shut it, Ned. I'll go and dance myself." He pushed himself up from the table and walked onto the floor. He was stumbling slightly as he went. "Our dear brother is well and truly drunk," Brandon said.

Ned smirked. "So he is. But he may yet get his dance."

Indeed, within a few moments, Lyanna had left Robert to dance with Ben, which Brandon couldn't help but smile at. Less sweet was the fact that Robert had wasted no time in finding another woman to dance with.

"Go on, then," Ned said. "Dance."

"I will. But my betrothed isn't here," Brandon noted. "Who am I to dance with?"

"Maybe with-" Ned faltered. "Maybe with her."

Brandon looked where Ned was watching and saw a woman dancing with Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne. She had purple eyes, like the Targaryens, but she was no Targaryen. "The lady Ashara Dayne," Brandon said, realizing who she must be. He smiled at his brother. "You fancy her?"

"She's-she's certainly very pretty," Ned said.

"Well then," Brandon said with a grin. "You should dance with her."

"Oh," Ned said. "No, I don't think-I couldn't-"

Brandon only smiled. "Give me ten minutes, Ned, and you'll be dancing with her."

He walked into the crowd. Lady Ashara had found a new partner, and for the next song he got a dance partner of his own, a pretty girl from a minor noble house. But as soon as he had the chance, he moved to stand in front of the beautiful lady. "Lady Ashara, I believe?"

She looked him over. "Yes. And you are a Stark of Winterfell?"

"Brandon."

She smiled. "And would you care for a dance, Brandon Stark?"

"Actually," he said. "I was hoping you might spare one for my brother, Ned. He would ask you himself, but he's a bit shy."

Lady Ashara gave a small smile at that. "Why not? Is he a good dancer?"

Brandon frowned. "I don't actually know. We don't have a lot of feasts at Winterfell."

She laughed a little. "Guess there's only one way to find out. Lead me to him, then."

Brandon darted back through the crowed, Ashara Dayne behind him. When Ned saw them approaching, he stood up quickly. "My lady," he said, eyes wide.

"Ned Stark, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he said.

"I heard you might want to dance."

He managed a smile. "I think I might."

As they went out onto the dance floor, Brandon smiled. My work here is done. He went back into the crowd to find a new partner.