Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun

Chapter Sixty-Two

It was a beautiful crown, she imagined that lot of girls would have loved to be given one just like it, most would have loved to be given such a crown by a prince and even more would love it if such a crown would give them the title of Queen of Love and Beauty, essentially giving them the title of most beautiful woman in all of Westeros.

But Lyanna Stark had not asked for the crown and she had not wanted it either but that had not stopped Rhaegar Targaryen from giving it to her in front of everyone from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms it seemed like. She remembered how silent it had grown when the Crown Prince had placed the crown of blue flowers on top of her head.

But all she had done was glanced at the royal box, something inside of her wanted to see how Princess Cersei was reacting but all she saw of the Princess was her back as she retreated from the box. Lyanna felt terrible for her, to have her husband crown someone else something that by all rights belonged to her and on top of that, to compound her shame, to have it happen in front of all the lords and ladies of Westeros.

Not that it was much better for Lyanna herself, the moment those blue petals had touched her brow the whispers had started and every single pair of eyes in the stand had turned to her. And not all were friendly. Word of what would happen would reach every single corner of all seven of the kingdoms and soon every person in all of Westeros would be wondering for how long the only daughter of Lord Rickard Stark had been sleeping with the heir to the throne.

But she could bare their scorn, quite readily, if only Ned would talk to her. If only he would look at her. She had seen the look on his face when Rhaegar had done what he did. For half a moment she thought that Father had appeared out of nowhere and had replaced Ned, his face had been a mask of stone that the Lord of Winterfell always seemed to possess. Father always had that face on when he was furious but would not shout and scream and threaten, he would just put on that mask and you would feel in the air that he was angry with you.

The mask fitted Ned far too well for her liking, her sweet and shy older brother whom she loved more than anything was replaced with a stranger that she was uncertain that she could trust. At this moment more than anything, she missed Brandon. Brandon would never be able to wear that mask, when Brandon was angry he would shout and scream and curse your name and would seethe in his anger, more fire than ice, but you would be able to tell when to give him a wide berth and when he stopped being angry with you and was ready to speak as a friend again.

But with Ned and her Father, when they were worth, it was like you were standing on rotten ice. It was already cold on the surface but one wrong move and you could find yourself plunging below into even colder depths. Brandon never cared though, it didn't matter how much disapproval their Father or Ned ever showed him, Brandon would always laugh and jest and tell Ned that he was too young to look such an old man.

But Brandon was gone, fled from Winterfell in the dead of night with his lover who was the lady-in-waiting to their goodsister and her babe. His babe. She still didn't believe it, that little Lauryn Sand had been her own niece. It should have been something she had already known, only the thick dark hair seemed to have belonged to her Mother and the way that Father had doted on the little bastard girl...

It was something she should have seen.

She hoped Brandon was safe somewhere with Ashara and little Lauryn, that they were somewhere warm and happy together. Father had said that Brandon had been foolish, bur he was her brother still. When Ned had been sent off to the Eyrie it had been in Brandon's arms she had cried, whenever a storm brewed over Winterfell and she knew that she could not go to Father, it was Brandon's bed that she crawled into. Brandon was her big brother and would always keep her safe, it was the only truth she knew.

She hoped he was thinking of her, wherever he was. She always imagined Brandon being there when she was forced into that endless bond of marriage, he would sit and jest with her all through out her wedding feast to try and cheer her, would glare at her husband and would make clear to him in no uncertain terms what he would do to him if he hurt her, regardless of if the law saw them as brothers or not.

And Brandon would protect her during the bedding as well, he would not have been able to stop it she knew but he would glare at all the men who carried her to her wedding bed, would keep a close eye on any who looked like they were about to take any liberties and would make certain to punish all of them later for it. Brandon would keep her safe, as he always had. But now, he could be all the way across the Narrow Sea for all she knew and could not protect her from anything.

Ned would protect her too, she knew. But it was a double edged sword, for all that she knew that Ned loved her as much as she loved him, he was just as much Robert's brother as he was hers. He had been raised with the Lord of Storm's End at the Eyrie when both were just little boys cast out from their homes and Ned loved him as a brother because of that, and for the love that Ned bore him he could not see what she saw.

Robert Baratheon was certainly very comely, with thick black hair and blue eyes and muscles that could only have come from swinging that warhammer of his he liked so much in hundreds of battles and tourney melees, he had certainly fought well in this one. He laughed well and easily and had been trying to be nice to her, she was not blind to that.

But no matter how hard she had been trying to convince herself that she might be able to find some sort of happiness in her marriage, her thoughts kept coming back to all the whispers she had heard about her betrothed. About a little girl fathered on a common woman in service to House Royce, her thick black hair and bright blue eyes like a mountain lake leaving no doubt in any mind who her Father was.

The first time she had heard those whispers she had gone straight to Father, she had been younger then, only thirteen and she still believed that her Father hung the moon in the sky at night and had commanded the sun to rise in the day. She was so certain that once she told him what she had heard about Robert then he would call the betrothal off, he had too. He wouldn't want her to be married to someone like.

But when she had told her Father what she had heard he had simply sighed and sat her down in a chair in front of the heath in his solar and had knelt down in front of her, that she would remember for the rest of her life for she had never seen her Father kneel to anyone before. He was Lord Paramount of the North and the Warden of the North in the name of the King as well as it was only the King that he ever needed to kneel too.

But he had knelt before her then, he had cupped her face with his large hands and had pressed a kiss to her forehead. When he had smiled at her, he looked so sad. Then he explained to her about the world, why it was perfectly normal for men to have bastards and that it would be more odd if Robert did not have one or two, even worrying.

Lyanna had tried to explain to him then why she was worried, why she didn't want to marry him but Lord Rickard had replaced her Father by then and he replied to her that she had a duty to their house and that the betrothal would not be called off, Robert would not have any need for other women once they were wed together and that would be the end of it.

But she had not been soothed, not at all. She didn't understand why her Father couldn't see why she was so unhappy, she didn't even want to be married. She didn't even want to be a lady most of time, most times she felt more like a boy anyway. She had always wanted to wear a sword on her belt and go exploring, beyond the Wall and across the seas. When she was little, Brandon had promised her that they would both become sellswords and make their own fortune.

And she had believed him so readily because Brandon would never lie to her, none of her brothers would ever lie to her or let her down or abandon her. Neither would her Father, she was sure of it.

And that surety had been smashed into pieces like a china doll being dropped on to cobblestones from a great height, they had all lied to her or abandoned her or let her down. All except for Benjen, he had ever been her truest companion, who she would train with in the godswood so they could avoid all of Father's many eyes inside the walls of Winterfell.

But Benjen could not help her with what she truly needed, which was to make an end to the match with Robert. Only her Father could do that and he would not now, and after what had happened to him with his heart she had given her word that she would not cause him any more trouble or grief, the Maester had said himself that any more could cause another attack and it could kill him.

She had given her word that she would do her duty and then her Father had called her his sweet girl and told her that he was proud of her, she couldn't remember the last time that her Father had told her that. And she had done it, she had surrendered her sword and had left the godswood and those secret sparring matches of her girlhood behind her, the time had come for her to grow up even though it broke her heard to do so.

No, the truth was that the match would go ahead no matter what she did. The music was already playing and all that Lyanna could do now was dance to their tune even though she hated the music and did not know any of the steps.

Except perhaps in someway she had gotten what she had wanted, now that Rhaegar had crowned her. Robert was nothing but easy smiles and great cheer at the feast after the tourney, he said of her crowing that all the Prince did was pay her a rightful due. But there had been something in those deep blue eyes of his, something dark and dangerous. Like the sea in the middle of the storm.

Lyanna had to wonder if he would demand that the match be broken, perhaps he suspected her of being Prince Rhaegar's whore as most everyone else seemed to think she was. She might have welcomed that once upon a time, let her be shamed and confined to Winterfell for the rest of her days. The maiden aunt for an infinite amount of nieces and nephews, she could be content enough with that.

But then she considered what the news would do to her Father once he heard it, more than likely it would kill him. Still, from what Ned had told her the Lord of Storm's End was somewhat obsessed with her so chances were good that he would not toss her aside so easily. Perhaps he would simply try and kill Prince Rhaegar instead.

She had to wonder how she had come to a point where having a lord kill the crown prince seemed a better option, she couldn't help it. Lyanna started to laugh, she laughed so hard that her sore ribs begged her to stop and tears were streaming down from her face. She imagined that if anyone was with her in the apartments at that moment they would think that she had lost all of her wits.

The door opened after Lyanna had managed to calm herself somewhat and Benjen stumbled in, her baby brother stunk of wine and stared at her like she was a stranger. "You're in a lot of trouble." He spoke, sounding very much like when he was five and he had caught her climbing the weirwood in the godswood and leaping from it's branches into one of the smoking pools.

Lyanna was about to respond that her brother could piss off but before she could Benjen tripped over his own felt and fell to the ground, for a moment her heart leapt into her throat when she thought that he had bashed his head open on the table but it seemed that the gods were showing some small mercies and he had managed to miss the edge of it.

Benjen sadly was of little help when it came to dragging his drunken arse to his bed and for a moment she had been considering calling the guards to help her but in the end she decided against it, there would be enough gossip going on about her she didn't need to add any more fuel to the fire. So, with a great deal of effort and pain in her chest, she finally got Benjen into his bed and left him there, praying to all the gods that he had such a sore head in the morning that he would wish that he had chocked on his own vomit in the night.

Her little brother had gone off with her older brother, Prince Oberyn and Robert for some drinking and talking late into the night while she was left on her own in the apartments as though she was a prisoner, though she had done nothing wrong. She had not asked Rhaegar to crown her, why would she want that? The guards themselves had been left orders that she was not to be let out.

It seemed that rule did not apply to her goodsister as Elia had gone not too long ago to go and get them some food, no one had eaten much at the feast now that she had come to think of it. It seemed there was nothing like a scandal to kill someone's hunger. She could still remember the King's eyes on her, that had made her want to shiver and find a corner to hide in for the rest of time.

Princess Cersei hadn't been at the feast, apparently none of her maids, her ladies or her husband could get her to come out. There was plenty of whispers being spread around the feast hall that night, apparently the Princess had threatened to make the Prince into a eunuch if he came near her or tried to touch her, no she was in tears and on the edge of despair and threatened to throw herself from the top of the tallest tower of the castle, no she had thrown a wine goblet at the Prince's head, no it was a flagon of wine.

Whatever had happened between the prince and his wife, his face offered no clues. It was a pretty face, she couldn't deny that. With that long silver hair, noble nose and violet eyes she could see why so many women spoke of him as being the most beautiful man that she had ever seen. She did not spend so long looking at him, she did not wish to give anyone any more reasons to spread whispers about and the Prince seemed to feel the same as he stared into the distance, looking at no one.

As she was lost in her thoughts the door to the chamber opened and Elia walked in, a flagon of something in one hand and a strawberry pie in the other. The smile on her face as she looked at her was one filled with sympathy as she placed the pie and the flagon down on the table. Lyanna's goodsister quickly retrieved two cups and filled them up with the flagon before handing one to Lyanna. "Now, I don't know about you but if anytime was a good time for a drink then I think now is it."

Lyanna agreed completely, draining her cup in probably the same amount of time it would take someone to blink. The wine made her shudder and made her feel like she had been punched in the teeth by a blackberry but it also made her feel a great deal better and she filled her cup up once again and nursed from it as her hand reached out for the pie which had already been handily sliced and brought a piece up to her lips and bit into it, the taste of strawberries bursting along her tongue.

Lyanna had never had a sister, she had never found herself wishing for one if the truth was to be told but if she had ever wondered what having one would be like then she imagined that it would be something like this. It was a sweet thought indeed, and as they drank from their cups and finished off the strawberry pie Lyanna felt better than she had done in a while.

They had finished both the pie and the flagon and Lyanna's head felt very light, Elia seemed to be handling it better than she had done as she smiled at her and took her empty cup from her hand and placed it on the table next to her own. Lyanna had leaned back against the padded bench they had been sitting on and shut her eyes tightly, the whole world seemed so far away and so dark and when a blanket was drapped over her she slipped away into the darkness.

She was only just underneath the surface however as when the door to their apartments opened and closed and she heard Elia taking to someone she woke up. Ned and Elia were standing close to one another Lyanna realised then it was more the door opening that had woken her up as their voices were whisper soft. As she sat up Ned turned to look at her and his face was stone and his eyes were cold, the mask was firmly placed.

There was a stench of wine around him but he did not seem overly drunk, so it was more as like it had been Benjen, Robert and Prince Oberyn who had done most of the drinking. Ned must have had some however as there was no chance that he would have allowed Benjen to get so stinking drunk otherwise. Ned stared at her for a few long moments and it was in moments like this when Lyanna saw how much he really looked like their Father, he was not as tall or as broad in the shoulder but he was a son of Winter.

"Robert is not best pleased, to say the very least." Was all her brother said to her before her brought up his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, he seemed older to her somehow. He had seemed older ever since Brandon had run off and he had been made the heir to Winterfell. Elia placed her hand on his shoulder and her brother seemed to have taken some strength from the touch and when Ned looked at her again, his eyes were softer than they had been.

"He is more wroth with the prince, cursed his name all about his chambers and called him words that I will not repeat in your presence and made threats that were unbecoming of a lord and in certain lights could be seen as treason." Something odd happened then, Ned's mouth twisted in a strange way that might have been called a mix between a smirk and a frown, as though he had thought of something funny and yet he knew that he should not find it funny. "Thankfully for all of us, we were in his apartments and the children born of wine are oft disowned in the morning. I'm glad that Brandon is not here, Brandon does not often make promises in his cups that he forgets and worse often tends to follow them up when he is still drunk."

It did not surprise her that Robert was in the habit of disowning but she said nothing of it, Ned did not seem like he was in the mood for humor and so Lyanna kept silent for the moment. She also said nothing of his words about Brandon, that would simply lead to an argument and it was one neither of them wanted to have at the moment. Ned spoke again. "Lya...I am uncertain what I am meant to say, or what to do. I have not written to Father and in truth I do not intend too, it might be for the best that we tell him when we return to Winterfell. We might be able to soften the news, somewhat. But I need to know, is there anything that I need to know?"

Lyanna had no idea what her brother was talking about but when she realised she let out a low and bitter laugh as she looked up at him. "You think that I asked for this? You think I am sleeping with the crown prince?" Another bitter laugh escaped from her mouth as she stood up from the bench and began to pace back and forth. "Do you understand how stupid you sound? I've met the man maybe half a dozen times, and spoken maybe thirty different words to him when all those times are seen together. How would I even have such a relationship, do you imagine that I snuck down from Winterfell and past Moat Cailin and through the Neck and down to King's Landing and back with no one noticing."

Ned was frowning and stood up so he was looking at her, when he spoke the voice was that of the Lord of Winterfell, he might not be one yet but he certainly had the makings of a great one. "I did not imply that you were sleeping with him, I'm sorry if that's what it seemed like. But Lya, there were thousands of women in the stands that day and Rhaegar Targaryen rode his horse past all of them, past his wife, and crowned you with it." Ned said as he gestured with one hand to the crown of blue petals. "Please Lya, tell me what I am to make of that. I can tell you what everyone else is."

"You're beautiful Lya, everyone can see that. Did you...Did you speak with the Prince at all, did you say something to him that might have been misinterpreted? Something that he might have misunderstood?" Lyanna wanted to cry then, but she was a Stark of Winterfell as well and she commanded her greif to freeze inside of her even as her big brother did not seem to notice how each word he said seemed to her a dagger being shoved through her heart.

Elia seemed to notice something, she strode forward and placed her hand on Ned's arm and Ned stopped talking and looked at her and then in that small moment the mask fell away and all Lya saw was her big brother and all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and cry and be safe from everything, from the entire world. Her brothers would always keep her safe.

But the moment passed quickly, Lyanna did not move nor did she say anything and the mask went back into place with a sigh. "At any rate, it does not matter. We are leaving in the morning, as soon as dawn breaks. Prince Oberyn suggest that course of action and I happen to agree with it, I do not care to think what the King might do if left to dwell on this." Ned turned his gaze away from her then to look at Elia, his eyes dipping low to take in the subtle swell of her belly.

In that moment, the anger and the sadness she bore towards her brother disappeared when she saw the fear that was painted on his face as clear as day. After what had happened at King's Landing she knew that Ned had never wanted to step a single foot below the neck once he and Elia were at one another's sides once again and this must have seemed like the cruellest reminder, that he could lose everything once again.

Perhaps for the first time, she was glad that her nephews were safe back in Winterfell. They would have to deal with none of this, safe behind those massive and ancient walls.

Ned looked away from Elia and looked back at Lyanna. "We need to get back as soon as possible, I imagine Benjen's not in any fit state to pack so I will handle packing his cases. Lyanna, I want you to start packing right now. The servants and guards have been told we've been leaving but know not to say anything, as soon as it's light enough for our horses to see by, we go."

Lyanna nodded and was about to go into her bed chamber and get started on her packing but something in her stopped her from turning and moving into the room, an sudden urge filled her and she knew that it was not something they might have had time for but she had to ask, to at least know that she had done it. "Ned, I'd like to go to the godswood. I want to pray and cleanse myself before the gods."

She didn't think she had ever asked to go to the godswood before, not that she needed to. She was a Stark and in Winterfell all she had to do was walk up to the gate and she could pray to the gods whenever she wished too but Ned knew her well enough to know that she had never been one to pray in the wood, if she went into the godswood then it was simply enough to clack wooden swords together with Ben.

Her brother looked like he was about to reject her request but Elia placed her hand on Ned's arm and when he turned to look at her Lyanna knew that she would get what she wanted. The sigh was the most tired sounding noise that she was certain that she had ever heard and when he looked at her his gaze was firm. "You may go, but I am going to send two guards with you to wait outside the entrance for you. The moment that the sky begins to lighten, I want you back here. Elia will pack your things while I pack Benjen's."

"Thank you, both of you. I promise that I will be back before the sky begins to lighten." Ned said nothing in reply to her, he simply nodded and went to the door and spoke to the guards outside the door for a few moments before he walked back and entered in his own bedchamber. Elia offered her a smile and followed Ned into the bedchamber.

Lyanna went in her own bedchamber and stripped out of the gown she had been dressed in for the tourney and the feast, it was pretty she supposed but it was hardly the sort of thing she liked to wear, all lace and frills. She replaced it with a more sensible dress of simple grey wool, one of her favourites. She pulled on her favourite pair of riding boots, some doeskin gloves and fastened a brown cloak around her shoulders with a silver clasp shaped into the head of a direwolf.

As she walked through the main chamber of the apartments to reach the door she glanced down at a plate of fruit and cheese that had been left to lay on the table next to the crumb filled pie tin that Elia had brought with her from the kitchen. More specifically she looked at the silver knife that lay next to a wedge of yellow buttery cheese. She knew that in truth that she would have no real need of it, the guards would keep her safe but she was also in a castle with a mad king and what seemed like a mad prince, she would take no chances. Lyanna picked up the knife, hid it in the folds of her cloak and made her way over to the door.

She was just about to open the door when she turned back, walked over to the table and picked up the crown of blue petals which she hide alongside the knife in her cloak and made her way back over to the door.

Allard and Thin Tommy were the guards on the door, men she had known her entire life and men that she knew she could trust with her life and men she knew that Ned would trust with hers. Thin Tommy didn't talk, at all. He had been born a mute in Winter's Town and had been taken in by her grandfather as a guardsman. For all Tommy didn't talk, Allard made up for it with every other word he spoke being a jest of some sort. He reminded her a lot of Brandon in that way.

The massive courtyard of Harrenhal was silent as the grave and bathed in the silvery light of moonglow, the castle was asleep and for a moment it seemed to Lyanna that she and her guards were the only people still left within it's walls. It was an eerie feeling and reminded her of Old Nan's stories about this place, of Black Harren and his sons and how they had all died in dragon flame and how their ghosts were still wandering the walls and the battlements and how lords when to their pillows at night and were founding in the morning, burned to a crisp.

Lyanna held no fear of sprits, she wasn't even sure there was such a thing but she couldn't deny that she could almost hear Old Nan's voice as she walked, could almost see her hazy white eyes hovering in front of her and hear the sound of her needles clacking together as she knitted a scarf or a shawl or a pair of socks for someone. Her Father always used to say that Old Nan had more wisdom than she spoke, Brandon used to tease her and told her that Nan was a witch and would boil her up for a stew if she wasn't good.

The gate to the godswood was shut and the guard on the walls was half asleep and he was not happy to be woken by their calls, for a moment she was afraid that his cries would wake the rest of the castle and soon everyone would come running including the king and he would think they were plotting something and have her tied to a stake and burned.

But that did not happen, she was committing no crime and while the guard grumbled while he went into the guardhouse he made no cry out for other guards. The gate was to be left open while she was inside and both Allard and Thin Tommy would keep guard, though it wasn't as though they had the right to stop anyone from coming in.

But there weren't many other northern houses at Harrenhal and those that were would most likely either have all their members be asleep or would prefer to pray to the old gods in the safety and sanctity of their own godswoods. The southron houses would not likely come to pray here either, she knew there were some that still kept to the old gods but again they would prefer their own godswoods if they were like her. But she needed to pray now, reflect and cleanse herself it could not wait.

While she much preferred the godswood in Winterfell, which felt more comfortable to her; older as though the gods were always watching her and while she was in there she was under their protection, it could not compared to the godswood in Harrenhal when it came to size. Like the rest of the castle, it was massive. Some twenty acres or near enough to make little difference. Her godswood could be fitted quite snuggly inside this one and no man nor woman would ever be able to find it.

But for all of it's massive size, it only took her an hour to make her way to the weirwood. It was massive as almost everything in this castle seemed to be, the branches stretched out in every direction and were as thick as an oak tree's trunk while the trunk of the weirwood itself could be at least three times as thick as the one in the godswood at Winterfell.

The ground was covered in leaves and roots, some of the leaves were still bright red due to having only freshly fallen from the branches while others had rotted to the colour of brown. Pine cones from that had fallen from the fir and cedar trees that had nestled close to the weirwood were scattered among the weirwood leaves alongside leaves of their own as well as small pebbles and all of it was covered with frost from the light snowfall that had fallen earlier in the day.

That had caused another uproar in itself had made everyone forget about her for at least a few moments, early spring snows were not at all uncommon in the North and the light snow that had fallen on Harrenhal was very light compared to them and over soon enough but this was not the North and it should not be snowing at all here when it had been as bright as it had been earlier. The King had demanded that ravens be sent to Oldtown to find out what was happening but Lyanna could have told what was wrong.

It was still Winter, the Spring had been a lie and nothing more. A Stark would always know, but the sun had been so bright, the fruits so sweet and the air so fresh that for a few sweet moments they had forgotten and then the gods had sent that light dusting of snow in order to remind them.

The mouth and eyes of the weirwood were nothing more than crude gashes in the white bark of the tree, nothing like the rough carving of eyes and a mouth of the weirwood back in Winterfell but now was not the time to be choosey. A weirwood was a weirwood and the eyes of the gods were on her and the time had come for her to do what she come her to do.

She retrieved the flower crown from the folds of her cloak and she examined the petals closely, blue winter roses were not so uncommon in the North and they were hardly little things in the cold and grew like weeds, she used to pluck them out of the cracks in the walls and make flower crowns of them all the time, mostly for Mother when she had been very little but she remembered making one for Father and placing it on his brow.

He had kissed her forehead then and told her how honoured he was in order to receive such a token from her and wore for as long as she had been in the solar, though she did not doubt he took it off when she had left the room. Still, the memory was enough to bring tears to her eyes and made her breath stutter for a moment.

Lyanna placed the crown down on the ground as she pulled off her gloves and then picked the crown back in her hands, her hands closing and squeezing and the thorns bit into her skin and rivulets of red began to run down the petals and stain them red. It was hardly one of the blood sacrifices of old, but it was all she had to give. She placed the stained crown into the gash in the trunk and fell to her knees and bent her head and begged for forgiveness.

"You know, it took quite a deal of work to make that crown you know. And blue winter roses are hard to find below the Neck, they burn quite easily in the heat." The voice was gentle, almost sweet and in it's own way soothing and yet it still sent a shiver of dread down her spine. She jumped to her feet and pulled the knife out of the cloak as she spun and found herself face to face with Rhaegar Targaryen.

If the Crown Prince of Westeros and the Prince of Dragonstone found himself afraid of her waving a cheese knife in his face than he did not show it, his lips almost seemed to twitch in something that might have threatened to be a smile. "Peace, my Lady, I did not mean to frighten you. Simply wondering what you were doing, nothing more."

"I'm praying, offering tribute to the gods and trying to wash myself of the shame." She had seen a small stream when she had been here the last time, once she had asked the gods to accept the offering then she would have gone to the stream and washed her face and hands, cleansing herself in their sight. Funny how all these little rituals she had hated as a girl came back to her now. "What are you doing here, how did you get in? They were guards on the gate." Not that the guards would have stopped him if he ordered them to move, he was the son of the King after all.

"Are there? I shall have to wait for you to leave before I can leave then. I came here when the feast had ended, I thought that you might come here. Well, I hoped you might." He stepped forward and Lyanna stepped back, keeping the knife raised in between them. Prince Rhaegar brought up his fingers to one of the branches and brushed away a dying smokeberry vine. "This was the last place that we had talked, after all."

That sent a flush to her face and increased the temptation to stab him by a great deal but all the same she had stayed her hand for not wanting to be burned alive or having her chopped off or being hanged. She hadn't meant to speak to the Prince that day, she hadn't even meant to speak to him at all but the gods must have their jests as men must as well.

It had been after she had rode away from the King and he had screamed for her to return, calling her a traitor and calling for her head. The armour had weighed her down and her ribs had been killing her as she had taken a blow from that Frey knight but all in the north had said she was half a horse and on a stallion she was the wind herself as she rode away.

Pursuit was not slow to follow and was not far behind and she had made for the godswood, perhaps the gods had been smiling on her then for the gate on the outside was open and she had rode through it, abandoning her horse and unburdening herself of the armour and the arms till all she was left with was the shield of the weirwood tree.

The prince and his men had found her with the shield hanging on the branch of the weirwood while she had been trying to climb another tree to hide up. She was brought down and for a moment she thought that was the end of it, the end of everything. But the Prince had sat her down and heard her explanations, his hands had been gentle and back then she thought his eyes had been very kind.

He heard her as she spoke of how one of her Father's men had been attacked by three squires, how she had sized a tourney sword and had scared them off, how she had befriended Howland Reed and how Benjen had as well, how they spoke of who those three squires served and how a plot had been hatched. How Ben had found out who they squired for, how Howland found the armour and the weapons and a horse for her, how she told Ned that she had a stomach ache and needed to return to her room to lay down and how Howland would see her safely back.

And how alive she had felt when it was her turn with the horse between her legs and a lance in her hand, when she had defeated all three knights and how she decreed that all she wanted for them was to teach their squires honour and how those in the stands had cheered for her. Through out all of it, the Prince had simply listened to her.

Once she had finished speaking, he had knelt in front of her and told her that by his honour that he would speak nothing of this. Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent had fallen to their knees as well and swore as did most of the knights and men at arms who had followed in hope for a taste of glory and honour and for a moment she had thought that maybe southrons maybe had more honour than she thought.

That illusion had been shattered quick enough when he had crowned her though. "You swore that you would not speak of that again, on your honour you said to me. Of course, I should not be surprised that you want back on your word. What you did it was dishonourable and it was disgusting, to shame your wife like that in front of almost all the realm? Why?"

The Prince said nothing for a moment as he looked at her before turning his attention away from her and looked at the weirwood. "Do you believe that your gods have power here? Do you believe that they have power at all? You must," He spoke as he gestured at the rough gash of a mouth where the blue flower crown now rested. "You gave them a blood offering, asking for forgiveness. So, you believe they have power, in someway?"

Many things in her life had come unexpectedly to Lyanna Stark, but a prince trying to discuss theology with her was certainly a new sort of absurd. Her hands throbbed at the mention of a crown and a drop of blood fell to own of the brown leaves, painting it red once again. "What does that have to do with anything? You pray to your gods do you not? You kneel in your septs and get anointed with oils and your septons read from their tomes and wave those foul smoke bellowing things about that's how you worship, this is how I do it. Do you think your gods have power?"

"I think they have a great deal of it, and I think you do as well." The Prince said as he shrugged of his cloak and placed it on the ground before he sat on top of it, not a single inch of his body in contact with the forest floor. "There are gods of fire and gods of ice, gods of the sea and gods of the sky. Gods of love and gods of hate, gods of peace and gods of war. And sometimes, they send us blessings and curses and trials yes, the hardest of trials when sacrifices must be made and terrible things have to be done for the good of all."

He was just as mad as his Father and she would cut him if she had too, she had already known that of course. What sort of a man would wait in the cold and the dark all alone in the barest hope that she might come here. She tightened her grip on her knife then, doing her best to show no fear. She a Stark, a She-Wolf and not even a dragon could make her fear. "And what do the gods say of me, My Prince?"

"Nothing or perhaps, everything? I do not know, I cannot speak to them." A low and bitter chuckle left his throat then, shaking his head, his long silver hair flowing around him and seeming to glow in the light of the moon. "I wish I could, it would make everything a great deal easier. Or, if not easier then it would at least give me some idea of what I was meant to be doing. But alas, I am left with writings of witches and mages and seers and prophets and must muddle through the best that I can."

Lyanna had no idea what was happening or what the Prince was talking about, but then her Mother would say that it was a fool's errand to try and find sense in the words of a madman and the maester would say that only a blundering idiot would put any faith in the words of a prophecy, wait long enough and any prophecy was like to come true she remembered him saying once.

"You're to wed Robert Baratheon, are you not?" The change of topic came so quickly that for a moment she almost didn't recognise the question for what it was but that seemed of little matter to the Prince as he continued to talk. "We're related, you know that? My Mother's aunt was his grandmother, I am not quite sure what that makes us but cousins is close enough."

She had known that but she hadn't forgotten that little detail in the swell of everything, she imagined that did not help the sting that Robert would have most likely felt from seeing her be crowned by someone whom he shared blood with. "I am to wed Robert Baratheon, my Prince. Which makes the shame of what you did worse, you realise that everyone now thinks that I am your whore? Robert does not see it that way and is not like to break the match, which will certainly make my Father and brother happy."

"But will not make you happy." The prince lunged on that opening like a hunting hound lunging for a pheasant, he folded his hands in front of him for a moment before standing up. "My cousin seems a man of...appetite, there are tales of course of that bastard girl of his in the Vale. Myra, Mia, something like that. He is a man of incredible appetite, you saw how much he ate and drank at all of the feasts. I imagine if it weren't for all the hunting and the fighting that he does then he would be massive."

"Tell me, a man like that, do you think he will keep to only one bed? I do not think that he will my lady, he sees your pretty face and naught else. None of your bravery or your courage or your skill at arms. He may keep to your bed for awhile, half a year, a whole year mayhaps. But, one day he will wake up and your face will no longer excite him and he will go exploring for new fruit."

"So you would recommend that I climb into your bed instead?" Lyanna spat with loathing, the rage came quick as a fire. The wolf in her blood was hollowing. "Instead of living with the knowledge that my husband is bedding whores, I should be your whore instead? Let your wife live with the knowledge that when you are not with her that you are with me?"

The force of her hate and her loathing made the Prince take a step back and Lyanna took a great deal of satisfaction in that, she did not step towards him but she continued to glare at him and kept the knife held up. "I do not know who you think I am, my prince. So, I shall inform you. I am Lady Lyanna Stark, daughter of Rickard and Lyarra, I am a northwoman and I am no man's whore, imply so again and I will do worse than kill you."

She put the knife back in the folds of her cloak, turned to face the weirwood and fell to her knees, bent her head and close her eyes and began to pray. "You may leave me, Ser."

The silence that followed was deafening, for a few moments she felt the Prince's presence at her back and one of her hands tightened on the handle of the knife one again. But the presence was gone soon enough and the prince left her, he would call up and all the guards would see that he left and the stories would be all about Harrenhal in the cold light of day but for that one moment she did not care.

When the sky lightened, she held true to her word and made her way back to the apartments. Allard and Thin Tommy said nothing and she loved them both for that, though she did wonder what they were thinking before she decided that she would rather not know.

Her brothers and good sister were waiting for, Ned and Elia both looked as tired as she felt and Benjen was so pale and looked like he was about to be sick at any moment. If she were in a better humour, she might have teased him for it but instead she simply nodded when she entered the room and Ned returned it and their party began to make their way down to the courtyard.

More of the castle was awake by then, she could hear the sound of a bucket being raised for a well and wood being chopped for Lord's heaths and cooks ovens alike. A group of eight bleary eyed stable boys were waiting for them in the stables and a gold coin was pressed into each of their and were told to bring their horses quickly and quietly.

A guardsman took a bag of gold coins up to the gatehouse for the main gate and once he returned to them, the gate had already starred to rise and the drawbridge was lowered and they slowly rode through it. They rode through the city of tents as slowly as they dared, so they would draw as little attention as possible.

Once they had reached the edge of the tents, they all seemed more relieved. Soon, they rode so far and so fast that Harrenhal was just a dark shadow on the horizon. When Lyanna looked back at it, she thought herself thinking only one thing.

That she would never come back here again.

End of Chapter Sixty-Two.

Okay, so my fingers are going to fall off.

Anywho, all of that just happened.

I imagine this is going to be a...controversial chapter. Keep in mind that things change and a character's opinion on the character doesn't always reflect the character themselves.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.

Please consider leaving a review, a follow and a favourite. Constructive Criticism is always welcome.

With much love and thanks,

DiscordantSymphony