Chapter 25.
Summerhall II.
The days had been no less brutal then, nor was the living easier or less dangerous, but the land had had a great air of mystery about it and a purity which was now gone.
--T.M Cicinski
Late 5th Moon. 297AC.
Stormlands.
"Do you think your aunt would mind us visiting?"
Wylla spoke up as she leaned out of the carriage that late afternoon where their retinue rested in an open field, well protected by the numerous guards which certainly have the criminals a pause when spotted from afar.
Lyarra stood outside, Missandei next to her as the silvery blonde watched Reeva and Aegarax awkwardly flail around in the air for a few seconds before flapping their wings back down, repeating it again and again.
She knew it was only a matter of time before they took to the skies confidently. She was certainly looking forward to their fire breathing as well.
To see the fire drakes release the power of their kind into the air.
Dragon fire is said to be hotter than normal fire and it burned faster as well.
Much like wildfire, it is said to burn even across water for a longer period. Almost toxic in it's control but mighty in power.
She turned to the 15 name day old who had taken a little sick a few days back.
Her skin paler than the usual northern look and her nose slightly red, though her garish yellow hair shone as it usually did.
"Which of my aunts?"
Wylla's eyes widened at that.
"Of course! I had forgotten, your aunt Allyria has married the Lord Dondarrion! I was referring to Lady Baratheon, of course."
Lyarra smiled, shaking her head as she turned back to the dragons shrieking in the air where they balanced longer than they usually did.
One day, she would fly in the air with them too.
It would be a dream come true.
"She would certainly welcome it. And I would meet Jon and Steffon once more."
Just then, a familiar voice called for her.
"Niece!"
Lyarra turned to see Viserys walking over with an excitable haste to him, a huge grin on his face as well as 2 guards behind him and a maid servant.
Viserys had taken to calling her niece, though he now knew the truth of her parentage. But considering the fact that she would be marrying his nephew, he didn't think it mattered what he called her.
They would be family soon after all, and somewhere down the lines they were already in fact, related.
"Good uncle."
She greeted him as he stopped in front of her, his eyes straying towards the dragons with awe in his eyes even as he waved a dismissive hand at Lyarra.
"I already told you, niece. Call me Viserys."
She stifled a smile.
"In any case, mother would love to speak with you."
"Oh. Of course."
"Do not worry about Aegarax and Reeva. I will watch them."
His eyes flustered with excitement as he clapped his hands together, flopping to the ground and the hand maiden rushed over with his drawing items which he took, continuing the drawing he had been making of the two nest mates ever since their journey began.
She watched him humorously before turning and walking off, Missandei behind her as they walked towards a tent guarded by Targaryen guards.
"The Queen Mother requested my presence."
She announced, and one bowed respectfully before she walked into the tent.
Rhaella sat at a makeshift table with a goblet of arbor gold while a familiar knight watched her with a fond smile.
Ser Bonifer Hasty.
He was a tall and thin man with a slightly weathered face. Stiff looking but he looked at the Queen mother like she was the most important gem in the world.
Rhaella looked up once Lyarra walked in with Missandei ever dutiful, behind her.
She smiled invitingly.
"Ah, you are here! Come, join me my dear."
She gestured at the other seat opposite hers even as Ser Bonifer bowed at Lyarra who curtseyed in return before sitting down.
"Your grace."
Rhaella shook her head in amusement but said nothing, as she turned to the knight still standing at attention.
"You are excused, Ser Bonifer. Join my grandson in his scouting ahead."
"As you command."
As he walked out and Missandei sat quietly on the side, the queen handed Lyarra a goblet of arbor gold which she gratefully took.
"I hope you are still as fond of the outside as before, Lyarra. You will have to forgive my unwillingness to spend time in the keeps of many Lords and Ladies."
Rhaella spoke up as she sipped her wine and Lyarra smiled understandingly.
"It is quite alright. I am very fond of being outside. And, having spent quite a lot of time around Lords as of recent, I can say I do not mind."
Rhaella chortled in amusement and agreement.
The two had spent quite the time talking and getting to know each other during their journey to Aegon's seat. And Lyarra could confidently say she very much liked the Queen's calm yet cheeky nature.
"Tell me, where is my son? Painting the dragons again?"
She huffed at Lyarra's answering grin.
"Whatever did I expect of that boy! As if not wanting to marry wasn't enough, he goes around doing strange things."
"I did see him with a beautiful lady during Rhaenys' wedding feast."
Rhaella perked up at that.
"Oh yes. The Lady Larissa Velaryon. Smart young girl. 26 name days old and referred to as an old maid by the young men and women of King's Landing."
Rhaella wrinkled her brows, frowning.
"They do not understand the responsibilities she had to endure after her poor mother's death when she was just 6."
A sympathetic feeling settled in Lyarra's heart at that even as the queen continued.
"Her father remarried not long after and his new wife died in childbirth, leaving her with a stepbrother whom she cares for as if he is her own son. She dedicates so much time for him that she has no time for herself. People do not understand that. But the boy is young. 12 name days old, and will be starting his squireship soon, which gives her some time for herself."
The Rhaella's eyes glittered with excitement.
"I believe she will be a good match for my Viserys. Very headstrong girl that she is, Viserys will have to take his duty as Lord of Dragonstone seriously if he wishes to win her hand."
But did Viserys even want such?
That was Lyarra's thought on the matter.
As for Larissa though…
"She seems like a lovely woman."
"She certainly is! Her mother was a lady in waiting before she stepped down once she was married. Perhaps I could introduce you after your nuptials with my grandson. You will need your own Ladies one day when you become Queen. And, you won't be Elia's lady anymore after the wedding."
Lyarra's eyes widened at that.
"I won't??"
"Well of course, you won't. You will be a titled member of the Royal Family. A princess with duties to her people and her husband. Mind you, some of your time will be spent at Summerhall, so you will need to become accustomed to it while you can."
As Rhaella spoke, Lyarra's nerves bubbled underneath her skin. She'd tried quite a lot not to think of what it really meant to be a princess.
Lyarra was a simple person!
She liked to spar, spend time with her companions and adventure wherever possible.
But if acting all princess-like meant being with Aegon, then she would just have to embrace that life.
A bubble of amusement rose in her chest.
Sansa would absolutely shine in such a row!
"Do not worry yourself, dear. You seem to have surrounded yourself with the good stock. Your handmaiden never leaves you."
She waved towards Missandei who bowed her head slightly embarrassed but proud.
"That young friend of yours with the odd hair. Lord Manderly's granddaughter. You have 2 sisters in the North and even here in the Stormlands, your aunts both reside."
The soon to be 17 name days girl fiddled slightly with her skirt, saying nothing. Rhaella smiled with a small sigh.
What a sight…
Bearing so much of a resemblance with Ashara, rest her soul.
She leaned forward slightly, placing a hand over a surprised Lyarra's.
"You also have Elia and do not hesitate to send me a raven while at it. I was Queen for quite a while."
She playfully winked at Lyarra who grinned.
While she didn't know much about the woman's time as queen under Aerys' reign, she'd heard quite a lot and knew that the woman seated next to her was a strong one.
"Most especially, Aegon will be there to help you out. That boy is going to be with you every step of the way. I don't think he knows how to function without you anymore."
Lyarra's smile grew into a grin before the sound of horses whinnying echoed outside and Rhaella smiled.
"Ah, Ser Bonifer must have found them."
And just in time too, as Aegon walked in with a grin across his face.
"Grandmother. Lyarra."
"Aegon."
Lyarra nodded at him even as he went for her hand, taking it in his, his thumb softly brushing her hand.
Rhaella huffed though not offended.
"You are excused, Lyarra dear. It seems my grandson would enjoy your company better."
Aegon chuckled as he turned to his grandmother.
"Oh my… grandmother you are a gem. Your company will always be precious to me."
Lyarra stifled the need to gush at that even as Rhaella beamed, a pleased look on her face.
"If only Viserys would feel that way and stay in Dragonstone and do his duty. He's discussed journeying to Yi Ti in the coming moon! The nerves of that boy! Does he wish to give me a heart attack??"
Aegon chuckled as Lyarra stood up and he softly brought her closer.
"Do not worry, grandmother. I will have a talk with him."
Rhaella shook her head even as she waved them off, Missandei already on her feet.
"If only it were that easy, dear. Run along now you two. It would seem our journey is coming to an end in a day's time. I would like to rest for a bit."
As the duo walked out, Aegon smiled as he brought Lyarra's hand to his lips, placing a kiss.
"I saw Summerhall and it's surrounding town."
The silvery blonde perked up, turning to Aegon as he looked ahead, leading her back to her caravan where Reeva was currently perched atop, looking like a little queen of the skies.
"What did it look like?"
A fond smile grew across the prince's face.
"Home."
Lyarra watched him curiously even as occasional guards bowed as they walked by.
"What about the Red Keep?"
"The Red Keep will always be my home, Lyarra. But Summerhall. Summerhall is my home away from home. A sort of comfort where I can be more myself away from the giant that is the Red Keep. I hope you find as much comfort there as well."
Lyarra hoped so too.
"And your squire?"
Aegon huffed out a laugh.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you adopted the boy as one of your brood."
Lyarra grinned in remembrance of the Lannister boy.
She knew what his family had done during the war of the Mad King, but Tion Lannister was not his forefathers. He was not even his father.
He was a seemingly sweet yet peculiar boy. A quiet disposition but curious when allowed to.
He also seemed to always blush whenever Lyarra was being extra kind to him. Aegon japed that he must be experiencing his first interest in the fairer sex.
"Brood? I do not have a brood."
Aegon scoffed.
"Tell that to the dragons, your direwolf, Missandei and Lady Manderly."
Lyarra sniffed though her lips were upturned.
"You're a nincompoop."
"Oh that's a new one. Where did you hear that?"
"…Gendry."
Aegon sighed in exasperated fondness.
Summerhall.
When Lyarra heard stories about Summerhall, it was usually started with the tragedy.
The story of grief and madness.
Summerhall was located in the Marches, making Aegon one of the 'Marcher Lords'.
Summerhall was also very close to Dorne as well.
The Marcher Lords of the Stormlands have some of the strongest castles of the Seven Kingdoms, as they have defended against Dornish incursions for thousands of years. Not to forget the Marcher Lords of the Reach and then there was Dorne itself, making these lands interconnected.
Marcher houses of the Stormlands include House Caron of Nightsong, House Selmy of Harvest Hall, House Swann of Stonehelm and House Dondarrion of Blackhaven.
When Lyarra had learnt of not just her close proximity to Dorne, the home and resting place of her mother, but also her aunt Allyria and cousin Edric, a trill of pleasure had settled deep within her. A few days journey to her aunt. Not more than 3 in fact.
But most of those plans were at the back of her mind as she stared at the castle that was Summerhall.
It did not look like a tragedy.
Also, now she understood why it took about half of the Lannister wealth to build.
The towns and other surrounding villages were built upon green and rocky and muddy lands which the Marches were located, and when the sun shone on occasionally, it gave the lands an almost-glow, pale in brightness to castles like the Red Keep or even the fabled Highgarden, but Lyarra could guarantee they would never be able to glow like Summerhall did. Castles like the Red Keep and Highgarden would shine, but Summerhall…
Summerhall glowed… and Lyarra Dayne fell in love.
It stood tall upon a great flattened rock, looking like a small heel on its own. A great and mighty iron and wood wrought portcullis locking it from the eyes of the common people. It's wall raised towards the skies and as peculiar as the Red Keep which bricks were colored red. Summerhall's brick walls were almost golden in color and yet not, but with the clouded sun against it, it's glow brought out it's beauty.
And then there was the castle itself. One could tell it was built not just for fortification and protection, but for the beauty Summerhall was once spoke of.
With towers as tall as they were wide, spread apart at different parts, the castle stood tall in it's structure, windows late and clear with a multitude of kaleidoscopic colors depicting what seemed to be dragons, Targaryens of old and warriors. The ceilings of the castle were not exactly ceilings in some parts as well.
Dome like in structure they were, and maid of cloudy glass that seemed more hardy than normal glass, and just as the windows, had a kaleidoscope of paintings engraved on it. And then with the pale glow of the sun on the creamy-gold bricked castle, where it sat atop the hill, it was almost like walking into one of the seven heavens.
Something she knew Wylla agreed with as she stifled a gasp of awe where she rode next to her as they had both decided to ride in 'Summertown' as it was called.
Basking in the glow of the castle, it deserved the name 'The Castle of a thousand sunsets, because that was what it looked like. A thousand sunsets focusing their glow on the castle and making it glow and encompass the town in not just a type of warmth, but in a golden summer.
"By the old gods…"
Wylla whispered even as her own heart beat against her chest faster than normal, for what she looked upon was far different than she'd ever seen in her life.
"This is to be your home, Lyarra. You are so lucky…"
Lyarra stifled a smile though she felt awe settle deep within her soul.
As the royal entourage made it's way towards the castle atop the hill, many of Summertown's residents traipsed out of their humble abodes, looked out their windows or just about peered out of their shops, filling the sides of the streets and screaming out in welcome of their prince.
"It's the prince!!"
"Your grace!"
"Sire!"
"Milord!"
"Mother of dragons!"
That certainly startled Lyarra out of her mind as suddenly she was the object of attention as many turned to her, whispering and pointing in excitement.
A little boy sat atop his father's shoulders waved at her and she returned the greeting, making the boy shriek in joy, a shriek that was overpowered by the shriek of the two growing dragons atop the carriage rolling behind which held the Queen as well as her beloved direwolf, Ghost.
Gasps and looks of awe were soon passed towards the two beasts of fire, and as Lyarra turned slightly to look behind her, a feeling of pride filled her as eyes laid upon Reeva and Aegarax, her dragon babes.
Was this how it felt… being a proud mother? It certainly felt… fulfilling.
And as she turned forward, she caught eyes with Aegon a little further in the front. A fluttery feeling settling in her stomach as he sent a bright smile her way, something she couldn't help reciprocating.
She ignored the cooes she heard from a small group of older ladies who'd noticed the interaction.
The gossip would spread around the town before nightfall.
"Make way for the Prince!"
The Portcullis was raised up immediately and the party rode into the very large and very open courtyard of the castle.
It was almost stately in look and yet held a certain beauty. A fountain in the shape of a roaring dragon, sprouting water from its mouth stood mighty at the middle, which immediately drew Reeva's attention and the diamond scaled dragon flapped it's wings and floated over to the statue with a small shriek, landing on the edge while avoiding the water, tilting it's head almost in curiosity, as if knowing it would grow in similarity.
She could see the awe in the eyes of those in the courtyard once more.
A group awaited them even as Lyarra was helped down by Aegon and led towards forward.
A man in his possible 50s or 60s stood at head, a friendly enough smile on his stern face. Hair grey with age and eyes sharp and blue, scars littering part of his face owing to a battle or two.
Lyarra already knew who he was. He after all, looked like his Kingsguard cousin. Aegon had mentioned some of his household as well, and it helped that the man's son was the captain of Aegon's guards and had rode with him to the Red Keep and back here.
"Welcome home, your grace."
The man bent to his knee, the rest of the household moving to do the same even as Aegon smiled wryly, coming to a stop in front of the still bent man.
"At ease, Arlan. Good to see you are well."
Arlan Selmy smiled as he got back to his feet, the remaining household doing the same.
"Still as healthy as a horse, your grace."
Aegon chuckled fondly even as he patted the man's shoulder in a friendly manner, standing a little taller than the other man at 6'3.
Next to the man though, was a peculiarity.
A tall and muscular looking woman dressed in light armor. She was ungainly and flat-chested, with shoulder-length brittle straw colored hair. She had a smattering of freckles across her face, a rather broad nose, full and wide lips which when pulled back, showed prominent and crooked teeth. She held no great beauty, but she had eyes that carried all of it. They were wide, round and a beautiful deep blue.
She also had a look of undisguised hope as she stared at a confused Lyarra still standing next to Aegon.
"Arlan, this is my betrothed and future Princess of Summerhall, Lady Lyarra Dayne. I hope you can both be better acquainted as time goes on."
Lyarra straightened up subconsciously as the older man's eyes laid on her. So much like his Kingsguard cousin, and he held himself with strength even as he bowed respectfully.
"My Lady, it is an honor to have you and your companions here with us."
Lyarra nodded politely.
"An honor to meet you too, Ser."
The Dowager queen arrived with her son accompanying her along with Ser Bonifer and some of his acclaimed knights behind them.
The Queen had a friendly smile on her face as she greeted Arlan Selmy.
"Ser Arlan, it does my heart good to see you well. My grandson has capable people ensuring his safety."
Aegon chuckled while Arlan bowed.
"Your grace, wonderful to have you here. You as well, Prince Viserys."
Viserys sent him a friendly nod even as he smiled fondly at Summerhall.
"A shame we will only be here for a week. Summerhall is still as beautiful as I last remember it."
Aegon beamed with pride even as Lyarra's eyes continued to stray around.
"You are welcome to stay longer, Uncle."
Viserys waved him off with a smile.
"Apologies nephew, but that will have to wait. Yi Ti—"
Rhaella huffed, cutting off her son with a displeased motherly look.
"The journey has been a little tasking for me and I would love to rest in the home of my grandson. Enough chattering, hm?"
She held a hand towards her son who took it while shaking his head fondly at his mother.
As they were escorted towards the castle, Aegon finally focused his attention on the large woman next to his Castellan, and said woman straightened up.
"Arlan, might I know your companion?"
Arlan grunted slightly as he turned towards the woman.
"My prince, she arrived here last night, hoping to seek an audience with not just you… but your betrothed."
That surprised Lyarra even as Aegon's face remained that of polite inquiry as he turned to the woman matching and surpassing him in height.
"And who might you be, my Lady?"
As soon as he addressed her, the woman clad in an unusual attire for he woman took a step forward which in turn led to many guards tensing and making a move for their weapons, but it was for naught, as she stopped a few feet away from a still confused Lyarra, bending to a knee and unsheathing her castle forged steel sword, and with her wide and calloused hand, laid it across her bent knee.
"Your grace."
She acknowledged the prince first as was his due, before she looked up at Lyarra, her eyes still filled with hope.
"My Lady, I am Brienne of Tarth, and I have come to you in hopes to be honored. I have heard of your pursuits in the martial arts and it has inspired me with the hope that I might one day become a knight."
Some scoffs could be heard here and there, but the newly named Brienne ignored it all, her shoulders straightening even more.
"I care not for the glory but I want the honor to serve. Your grace, my Lady, I wish to join your household. As the sworn shield and protector of the Lady Dayne."
Silence filled the courtyard.
The North.
The Wall.
The cold wind rustled the black cloak of the brothers of the Nights watch who were stationed at the top of the Wall for the night.
It was dark and starless, but the skies were caressed by the beautiful blue and green Northern lights that spread miles and miles away.
For many of the Southerners, it was still a thing of beauty and confusion, after all, such a thing was not possible in the South. And for the Northerners, it was a blessing. An unsung message from the old gods in their real of Tir Na Nog, telling them they still continued to watch over their followers in the realm of man.
It was a quiet night. No sign of wildlings close to the wall, in all the 12 Keeps garrisoned.
All 12 had at least 200 black brothers guarding it as was their duty, while Castle Black had the highest number of a little over 500 as it was the center-most and main stronghold.
"I can't believe the Nightfort is finally getting renovated, Flint."
One of the 16 guards atop the Wall absentmindedly conversed with his fellow brother who nodded grimly.
"Tell me about it. I get the need to man all 19 castles, especially now the King is fulfilling his promises and the other kingdoms are sending more volunteers than criminals, but by the Old Gods, that place is sinister!"
He shivered slightly, and not because of the chilling cold, before he continued.
"Ol' Tom was one of those stationed there to rebuild, and he came back pale as the wall and needing the company of a whore at Mole's town for a whole night. Said he could hear the screams of my poor ancestor, Danny Flint."
Samwise stifled a grimace in remembrance of the maiden before snorting.
"Of course Ol' Tom heard that. He hears everything. The crazy old bastard."
The two snorted in amusement even as they discussed the Nightfort quietly amongst each other.
A few brothers away, a group of 3 discussed amongst each other, or rather yet, argued.
"I'm telling yer the truth, yer fuckers!"
The rough looking northerner crowed out with slight madness and panic in his eyes as he raised his hand out, grasping at something that wasn't there while the other two rolled their eyes, having heard the story time and time again.
"There it was! Like a demon! In the shape of an hunched man. Hands longer than normal with claws sharp and deadly it was! And it's whole body, made of shadows! I couldn't see a damn feature! Right before me eyes! A SNARK!!"
He jumped to his feet, bellowing out while breathing in and out heavily. He got the attention of the brothers around, many groaning or sighing beneath their breath, having also heard the story multiple times.
"Perhaps you saw your mother in yer dream, ey?"
Mad Gill, as he was referred to as, turned offended brown eyes on his fellow brother.
"It weren't my fucking mother, you dumb fucking cunt! I know what I saw, by the Old Gods! Then those fucking wildlings came from nowhere and it vanished into the forests! And then I got this scar from one of them bastards!"
He pointed at the rather deep scar running down one of his eyes.
Harry, one of the black brothers snorted as he looked beyond the wall.
"That is the only part of your story I can believe, Gill. Wildlings."
He spat out in disgust.
"Nothing but fuckers who deserve their blood on our steel."
Many of the brothers around grunted in agreement while a little further away, Samwise spoke up.
"They've been rather quiet lately, ey? Not skulking around the wall."
"Perhaps they're learning their lessons!"
Another jeered humorously.
"About fucking time too!"
But Mad Gill wasn't having it, snapping put of his reverie as he glanced into the deeper North.
"Ha! One thing about the Wildlings boys! They ain't never giving up their fight to head behind this wall! No, I guarantee something's up with them. Perhaps a Snark—"
"Oh shut up, Gill! Why don't you mention a grumpkin next, hm?"
"I'm telling ya—"
A cold and awfully vicious wind blew through and they all quietened, wrapping their cloaks tighter as they shivered and gritted their teeth.
It had been that way for about 2 moons now. Violent bouts of cold winds as the air changed beyond the wall, growing colder and leaving everyone at it's mercies.
The brothers all kept quiet as they kept their eyes on their duties, ceasing their talks so as to preserve whatever energy and heat they could.
It would be one of those nights after all.
Summerhall.
Later that night…
Aegon slept in his chambers for the first time in moons.
His dreams, calm as the evening air… until it wasn't.
Dreamscape.
It was cold and windy and snowy, and he was in his sleep wear, his sleep robe untied and his chest uncovered.
His feet buried in the snow.
The North.
Again!
He was here again… like the last time!
He turned to his left, and thousands of miles away was the Wall.
He was beyond it.
The howling of the cold air blocked his ear and he covered his face, stumbling slightly as the wind blew him harshly as he suddenly found himself stumbling through a dark and dank and cold forest, his breath visible as he forced his way past.
And then, like his previous dream, the forest was gone, and he was in an open clearing. Feet against the chilling snow and he felt he was loosing feeling in them.
'What happened after this??"
He panicked as he tried to dredge up the dream he had buried deep in his mind out of fear.
But he had no need to, as he turned forward, and he remembered.
Those things…
Those dead things!
Coming at him from afar, snarling and stumbling like drunks as they practically crawled, ran and climbed over each other to reach at him.
'No!'
He stifled a gasp as he stumbled backwards, oh to fall over something, and he remembered the voice, telling him to use it.
The Great Sword, singing like Valyrians steel and yet not. Shining like silver and yet not. An old language written on the side that he did not understand, and glowing rather dimly where it lay in the snow.
And he remembered the thousand and one voices that screamed at him to claim it.
Looking up at the things coming his way, he wasted no time, lunging for the sword, and as his fingers grasped the hilt, the world exploded in an abundance of golden light much like the sun and fire intertwined.
And Aegon woke up with a pained gasp, rubbing at his eyes which seemed to remember the light in his dreams.
As he blinked away dark spots rapidly, he let out an hollow laugh, staring at the hand he had used to grasp that magnificent sword.
Why was he feeling this way?
What madness was he going through?
Why did he dream of bad things. Dead things.
"Bad omens…"
He whispered into the dead of the night.
He could no longer sleep, even as he stared outside his window, the skies lightning up a bit, but not enough for many to wake for the new day.
His father had once told him how dreams could sometimes affect reality.
'Sometimes dreams tell us things we do not bother seeing, and it is your duty to work out what was and was not real.'
Why was he dreaming of the North… of the lands beyond the wall… of dead things… and of swords so beautiful, it sang to his very soul.
He said nothing even as he sat behind his chair, beginning to write all he could remember.
Perhaps… perhaps he should listen to his father for once about what it was for a Targaryen to dream.
Practice Yard.
Lyarra grinned in curiosity as she watched her betrothed spar with Brienne of Tarth.
She was strong, that much Lyarra could see.
She parried Aegon's attacks well, dealing blows for blows. And though it was clear she was not as skilled as the famed squire of the Sword of the Morning, Brienne could hit when needed.
She was…
"Amazing."
Lyarra whispered out where she stood, hands around her own practice sword while Missandei stood loyally next to her.
"The prince seems impressed."
Lyarra knew he was as he stopped the fight, giving the lady a respectful nod and going over to Gendry and the Master at Arms of the castle, Ser Brandon Stint, a man in his mid 40s, a little tall with a friendly but stern disposition when he greeted her that morning, slightly surprised to see her dressed for a spar.
He didn't protest her involvement though, so Lyarra seemed him fine.
And then next to the man was Aegon's squire, Tion Lannister who had not stopped staring in confused surprise at the behemoth of a woman from Tarth.
"I am impressed, Missandei. When my cousin Jon told me of his half sister and her friend, this is not the woman I envisioned."
She watched the hulking woman dab at her forehead sweat before looking around almost uncertainly, as some men at arms threw her disdainful looks or just plain curiosity.
Lyarra could not stand for that as she straightened her shoulders, grasping tightly at her sword.
"Nevertheless, I do not believe I can turn her away. Not until I myself know her."
With that, she threw a smile at her dear friend before matching over to the Lady of Tarth while Missandei watched her Lady go with a fond smile.
Brienne's eyes immediately followed Lyarra as she walked over and she straightened, giving a bow as the shorter woman stopped in front of her.
"My Lady."
"Brienne of Tarth, might I trouble you for a spar session? You see, I promised my uncle Arthur I would continue with my training here at Summerhall, and it would be my honor to spar with the only other female warrior here in Summerhall."
Brienne's eyes widened in surprise as she looked around as inconspicuously as she could, noticing some of the scornful eyes turn curious. Her eyes strayed towards where the crown prince discussed with his Kingsguard but Lyarra stepped in.
"You do not need to worry about Aegon. You want to serve me, do you not?"
As much as Lyarra still found it odd that she would have people serving her, she would not back down from doing this.
Brienne nodded eagerly and Lyarra stifled a smile.
"Of course, my Lady."
"Good."
Lyarra stepped back, taking a fighting stance thought to her by Obara Sand.
"Then let's fight."
Brienne hesitated for a second, but after seeing the fighting light in the Last Dayne's eyes, so much like her dear friend Mya Stone, she wasted no time immersing herself in their fight, while of course holding back a little, knowing her own strength was mighty in comparison to the future Princess'.
A few feet away, Aegon watched along with Gendry, Tion and Ser Brandon as Gendry whistled lowly, impressed.
"That giant behemoth sure can fight alright."
Aegon chuckled softly though he kept his eyes on the spar, watching the ease Lady Brienne had while sparring with Lyarra who had a very impressive swiftness as she moved and dodged.
"The princess is just as impressive."
Tion cut in, a resolute look on his face as he practically danced on his feet as he watched such an unusual spar.
Aegon hid his smile while Gendry smiled viciously at the boy.
"Oh? Someone's affection for Lady Dayne shows once more."
Aegon ignored the spluttering of his squire even as he ruffled his dark golden hair before turning to an amused Brandon Stint.
"Brandon, I would like you to include Tion in some of the Men at arms trainings during the evenings. He used to be included back in the Red Keep but he is here now. Take him through the basics once more just so you can get a clue on his abilities."
Brandon nodded, turning stern eyes on the boy who gulped nervously before Brandon smirked.
"We'll make a man out of you yet."
"I'm already a man!"
His voice broke slightly, making the others snicker or chuckle while Tion's cheeks reddened in embarrassment and Aegon fought the urge to ruffle the boys air once more.
Seriously. He was almost adorable.
"In any case, you're only a man once you've used what's between your legs. And I don't mean with your hands boy."
Brandon cut Tion off when he opened his mouth, leading to the boy's further embarrassment from what he said.
Aegon laughed silently before side eyeing his friend and Kingsguard, quietly speaking.
"What do you think?"
"If you mean about your squire's seeming virginity and love for your betrothed, don't ask."
Aegon's grin widened even as the spar between his betrothed and Brienne of Tarth slowly began to come to an end.
"But if you ask about the large behemoth of a lady currently vying for the spot of your wife's sworn shield, then I can certainly say I am impressed by the woman. With a few trainings here and there, she could very well impress Arthur."
Aegon nodded at that. Arthur Dayne was not a man easily impressed by many a warrior, and he had sent away even more, sobbing at not having earned the respect of the man.
"She is rather impressive."
He whispered absentmindedly, his eyes clouding for a moment as he thought it perhaps a good idea for Lyarra to have a female sworn shield. Closer to her and faster to protect that way.
He had still not forgotten the feeling of helplessness that night of the wildfire explosion. And he hoped to never feel that way ever again.
"You seem out of it, Aegon."
Gendry's voice brought him out of his reverie and he stifled a sigh, noticing the close look his friend was giving him.
"You also look tired. Isn't Summerhall for you to rest and keep company with your betrothed?"
Aegon shrugged absentmindedly.
"What do you think of the North, Gendry?"
The Baratheon frowned slightly.
"The North? What brought this on?"
Aegon stared up into the blue-grey skies before he continued.
"Or have you ever thought about an army of the dead, and what it could mean for us?"
Gendry gave him a look.
"I am to guard you, my prince… not be given nightmare inducing tales to discuss."
Aegon let out a startling laughter, his eyes lightning a bit even as the spar between Lyarra and Brienne came to an end with Brienne obviously winning.
Lyarra let out a small groan of pain and Brienne's eyes widened with worry.
"Apologies My Lady."
Lyarra waved off her worry.
"I am quite alright. If I don't get hurt during a practice spar, then how can I know what I am capable of, or what to avoid?"
A look of respect appeared in Brienne's eyes at that even as Lyarra continued.
"In any case, you are an amazing and skilled fighter, Brienne. You would make an excellent addition to my household."
"Indeed."
Aegon added as he walked over, with Gendry behind him.
Brienne bowed respectfully.
"Thank you, your grace. It is all I could ever wish for."
She told him earnestly and Aegon nodded, turning to look at his betrothed.
"It is of course your decision at the end of the day."
Lyarra threw him a thankful smile before turning to Brienne who stood as stiff as a statue.
"Lady Brienne, I don't know you as much as I could. But I can tell you have honor. You are brave and you want to prove your worth. I need a sworn shield. Someone who can stand with and behind me. Someone I can trust. Someone I can practice with. Someone I can one day turn to as a friend as much as my handmaiden has come to be. Can I put such a burden on you?"
Brienne's eyes brightened as she looked upon the future Princess' with hope in her eyes.
"Yes, My Lady."
"Then I welcome you as my sworn shield and protector. It matters not what others might say. Let them talk, their grumbles mean absolutely nothing at the end of it."
Gendry stifled a snort of amusement at that while as for Brienne… her smile was everything.
Later that afternoon.
Lyarra walked out of her room to see the Lady Brienne standing at attention, already focused on her duties even as Aegon greeted her with a kiss to her lips, startling the taller woman at the supposed breach of decorum.
Gendry gave her a wry grin.
"You'll get used to it."
The two lovebirds ignored them as Aegon held his hand out.
"Shall we?"
Aegon escorted Lyarra around parts of the castle, as she gasped in awe at the beauty of the creamy gold castle. Parts of the inner ceilings made with glass in the shape of domes with kaleidoscopic colors which made the insides shine with a multitude of colors.
It had been a suggestion made by the queen and the prince sincerely appreciated his mother's gift for beauty.
He then led her to the gardens, and just as the ones of the Red Keep, Lyarra marveled at the beauty.
Compared to the garden of the Red Keep though, Summerhall's garden was almost… exotic.
Flowers and trees from far and wide. All different colors and many blooming as they were tended to by the royal garden keepers who bowed in respect as the group of 4 moved through the beau maze.
Many rare flowers she'd heard about. Amaryllis flowers, Calla lilies, different species of roses, an imported cherry blossom tree… carnations, orchids, chrysanthemum, irises, dahlias, peonies, tulips, marigolds, a magnificent weeping willow tree that created a wonderful shade area, red maples, birches… so much more.
A lot of work and money had definitely been put into Summerhall so as to get rid of the imaginary stench of death the previous burning had brought.
And then at what seemed to be the middle stood a beautiful freestanding open gazebo with cushioned seats and tables which looked perfect for afternoon picnics or relaxation.
"My mother grew very interested in braavosi architecture and had this built as well."
Aegon added as they looked at the structure a few feet away and Lyarra smiled.
"It's beautiful. Could we stay there for a while?"
She turned to the prince who smiled apologetically, patting her hand in the crook of his.
"Perhaps another time. I have somewhere to show you not too far from here. Come on."
He gestured with his head as they resumed their movement, making a turn which made Lyarra even more curious before they stopped at a well ornamented iron writ gate, a little dainty and not very large.
The prince opened it and Lyarra walked past while Gendry and Brienne stayed to guard the gate.
As Lyarra walked through, she found the place rather quiet and yet not in a disturbing way.
Small shrubs in well arranged manners, and as she turned to her left, her breath shook slightly.
A heart tree stood, lone yet strong, as the wind rustled it's red leaves slightly. It had no face, but it was enough. It was enough for Lyarra as a remembrance of her home in the North.
She felt her eyes water slightly as she turned to look at Aegon who smiled softly.
"I did tell you there was a godswood here. It's not like the one in Winterfell, and it is certainly small in comparison but—"
Lyarra cut him off, grabbing him by his collar and down to her level as she kissed him with so much passion it startled Aegon at first before he eagerly reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her closer to himself.
As they finally drew back, a wry smile appeared on his face as they kept their foreheads against the other.
"Welcome to Summerhall, Lyarra."
Lyarra chuckled, separating from him as she walked over to the tree, softly dragging her fingers across it's bark, closing her eyes as she breathed in and out, an invisible knot untying from her chest as she basked in the feeling, imagining herself back home in the North… in the godswood with her siblings, all listening to the teachings of Old Nan or their father.
What it would feel like being there just once… to see they were all well and good—
"Agh!"
She hissed slightly, yanking her hand back even as Aegon rushed up to her.
"Lyarra?"
She looked down at her palm to see a slight open wound so small it wasn't an issue. Aegon took the hand in his, placing a kiss on her inner wrist, and an electric feeling went through her, settling between her legs as she shook slightly, staring into his dark eyes.
Her eyes twinkled in amusement.
"I almost think you brought me here to Summerhall just so you can have me all to yourself."
Aegon let out a laugh, rubbing his thumb around her palm as he caressed the back of her neck with his left hand.
"And what if I did?"
He playfully japed and Lyarra bit her lip, fighting down a smile.
"Well then… have your way with me."
Aegon's breath caught, even as he did just that, the pair entwining themselves in their arms, even as the heart tree rustled mysteriously.
All was well once more.
North.
Bolton Lands.
Domeric Bolton cursed even as he struggled to keep his pace, running through the cold and hollow forests, away from the madness that associated itself with his half-brother. Well, his now deceased half-brother.
It had all happened when he was knighted in the Vale and called home by his father to resume learning just what it meant to be a Bolton Lord.
Domeric had never been satisfied with the reputation his house had.
Oh he was proud of his Bolton blood. The blood that ran through his veins made many a man wary of his potential. Made many fear angering a Bolton. But it didn't mean it was a welcome feeling all the time.
And it was tied to the 'hobby' his ancestors had.
Flaying.
The accursed bane of his family. His father had trained him on the way of flaying as a child, using animals of varying types, until it got rather concerning.
He remembered the first time he began his training as a squire. The eyes and whispers that followed him. The looks many shared out of 'concern' for their kin around a skin flayer, as the Boltons were called.
But there was worse. Worse in the name of Ramsay Snow.
Oh, how exciting Domeric had been to meet him. Growing up alone without a sibling who could understand the burden he carried on his shoulders. Who could understand the eyes crudely placed on him.
He had searched him out even when his father had warned him against it. Only for the bastard to try poisoning him!
"He's over there!"
He heard a crazed shriek and cursed as he dodged and arrow, watching as it whipped past and embedded into a tree in front of him.
He turned to his left, taking a narrow way towards the nearest village where his guards were waiting.
He shouldn't have gone off to Ramsay on his own. But how should he have known he was a crazed fanatic who had a deep love for flaying and poisons!
"Gotcha!"
A sinister looking being stopped in front of him, all rotten brown teeth and crazy eyes, and Domeric's eyes teared up not out of fear, but because of the very offensive and foul odor wafting from the man.
"Running off, murderer?"
He spat out and Domeric gritted his teeth as he held the hilt of his sword and the man unsheathed his own dagger.
"Reek is mad at you, he is. You is killed master, you have. Reek will have you flayed for this, he will."
The now names Reek promised as he held his dagger up, eyes lighting up with hate before running towards Domeric who dodged, swinging his sword at Reek who stumbled back with a hiss.
"I am no murderer. He sort to have me poisoned!"
Domeric sneered back, his pale unsettling Bolton eyes alight with anger even as Reek roared.
"Then you should have died, like a good Bolton heir!"
He made for Domeric again, taking a close swipe at his arm before Domeric ran him through in the chest, and a shrill scream echoed further back.
As Reek fell to the ground, blood spilling out of his mouth, smelling even fouler than usual, Domeric turned just in time to see a thin, pale and sickly looking young lady staring at him with hate.
Myranda. His half-brother's so-called lover.
She did not scare him though. What scared him instead were the growling hounds in chains which she held tightly with all her might, all 6 frothing as they stared down Domeric with hunger in their vicious eyes.
He gulped with fear as he stumbled, turning and running off as fast as he could to hear her shriek at the hounds.
"Kill him!!!"
She let the hounds go and they all ran off, barking loud into the night.
Of course, Myranda was not Ramsay, and the hounds had been starving for quite a while, so while 2 did go hunting for Domeric, 4 were drawn towards the dead body of Reek as he slowly succumbed to his injury.
The dogs sniffed around him before the largest bitch took a big chunk out of his guts and soon enough the other followed.
"No!! Go after the bastard, not him!"
Myranda screamed in anger as she absentmindedly grabbed a stone as the dogs feasted on the now dead Reek, and threw it at the head of the most vicious one.
It let out a yelp, stumbling backwards and shaking it's head even as Myranda pointed in the direction Domeric had gone.
"Over there, you stupid hound!!"
The hound named Maude stared at her attacker for a second, before a rabid growl escaped her lip as she took a step towards her new hunt, even as Myranda suddenly realized things were not going to go in her favor.
Her screams pierced through the night, much like the screams of Ramsay Snow's past victims.
Perhaps, it was fate that made things happen this way after all.
As for Domeric, he panted where he dangled up in a tree as an hound circled the tree and he winced at the pain in his leg where he had bitten by one of the beasts before he killed it.
For the first time that night, he regretted Ramsay Snow's death. For if he had known about his mad half brother and all that he was capable of… perhaps he would have flayed him all on his own.
But perhaps it was for the betterment of the world that the bastard stay dead, if only for Domeric to never have the need to go so low as his ancestors used to. And besides, kinslaying was looked down upon by the Old Gods and the New.
"Over there!!"
He heard voices as his head snapped towards where it came from.
"Kill that thing!!"
The dog barked out, rushing towards new targets.
"Quick! Fire at it!!"
"I'm trying you fucker! It's too fast!"
"It's almost—"
A small whine was heard as an arrow embedded itself into the dog's leg, another following and piercing through its neck and it fell dead.
Domeric sighed in relief as his guards hurried towards him.
"Milord! Are you well??"
He closed his eyes, breathing in and out even as his leg throbbed in pain.
His father had a lot to answer for.
And that's it!
A lot certainly happened here!
Brienne has finally joined the household. Aegon is dreaming again. And this time, perhaps he'll take his dreams seriously. Strange sword though… hehe.
Anyways, a wall cameo cause why not? Small changes are happening after all.
Poor Domeric. Going through a lot because he really wanted a sibling.
Of course this won't be the only time he appears in this fic.
NEXT CHAPTER, Myrcella avoids Joffrey. Illyrio plans his revenge while Varys' last chapter unfolds. Cersei makes more plans for Casterly Rock and Lyarra discusses with a Septon.