1,145Ever since she was a young girl, Lyanna had loved winter roses, captivated by the vibrant colors they lent to her snow-covered home.
During the long winter, on the rare days when her violin sat untouched on the mantle, Lyanna would help Lady Evetta prune the small, thorny shrubs that adorned the glass garden beside the Workshop.
The young lady of Winterfell remembered the day when the pale buds bloomed into brilliant blue roses. She recalled how stunning the flowers had appeared nestled in Lady Evetta's bonnet and how lovely they had looked woven into her own hair.
So why did the roses in her hands seem so ugly?
Rhaegar Targaryen had won the joust to thunderous applause. The crowd had cheered his name, their voices shaking the very ground like charging cavalry, and even Lyanna had found herself swept up in the excitement.
But then the prince had laid the flowered crown in her lap, and the cheers had died. Smiles fell from the faces of lords and smallfolk alike, and pandemonium followed. The Dornish and Northmen shouted in outrage, each side decrying the other, threatening violence. Benjen had held her tightly, trying to shield her from the crowd's attention, while Ned struggled to keep Brandon from drawing his blade. Nearby, Ser Lewyn wrested a dagger from his nephew's hands, and Princess Ellia watched as her husband rode past, her eyes hollow and downcast.
All the while, the king's mad cackle echoed in Lyanna's ears as she asked herself why. Why had the prince given her the flowers? Why had he crowned her the queen of love and beauty when his wife sat mere steps away?
Lyanna recalled the night Rhaegar had visited her chambers, confiding the troubles that plagued his family. Did he fear Princess Elia would not survive the birth of their second child? Did he dread the prospect of another daughter?
A sickly sensation coiled in Lyanna's gut as she thought of her music teacher. The Lord Hunter and his wife only had one child, and Lady Evetta had implied she was unable to bear more. And yet, the Hunter had loved her all the same. Lyanna had seen how Lord Fairchild regarded his wife with eyes ready to exchange the world for her happiness, and she knew such love was not dependent on the birth of a daughter or son.
The memory made the roses seem uglier still.
A newfound resolve settled in Lyanna's heart as she rose from her seat. Amidst the ceaseless shouting and the king's terrible laughter, she waded through the onlookers until she reached the royal box, where the Dornish princess sat beside her brother and uncle.
"Forgive my intrusion, Princess Elia." The young lady of Winterfell bowed, and the crowd grew silent. Lyanna felt the weight of a thousand eyes upon her as she presented the crown, "I believe Prince Rhaegar meant these for you."
She ignored the shock on Ser Lewyn's face and the unreadable light in Prince Oberyn's eyes as Elia accepted the flowers with trembling hands. The princess offered quiet words of gratitude. Bowing once more, Lyanna returned to the Starks' box, doing her best to appear strong and sure even as her arms trembled and her legs threatened to give out. She refused to acknowledge the silent prince or listen to the mad king's laughter, which had only grown louder after all she had done. After what seemed like an eternity, Lyanna found herself again in Benjen's arms.
"We need to leave."
Ned spoke the words into his goblet, just loud enough for Brandon to hear. The brothers sat some distance from the high table, overlooking the final feast of the tourney, which felt conspicuously lacking in revelry despite the abundance of food, wine, and music. Lyanna sat nearby, and as much as Ned wished to hide her away, their sister was safer at their side.
Brandon drained his own cup.
"I've made arrangements with Tytos Blackwood."
Ned nodded in approval. Though they owed allegiance to the Tullys, House Blackwood had maintained strong ties with the North. Two daughters of Raventree Hall had wedded the Lords of Winterfell since the Dance, and Blackwood Vale was a short ride from Seagard, where a ship could ensure safe passage to the North.
"We should leave tonight."
The elder Stark shook his head.
"Lyanna, Benjen, and I will leave in the morning," Brandon corrected, giving Ned no chance to interrupt. "Lord Arryn has invited you and Robert back to the Vale."
The Northern Blade held his brother's attention with hard, frigid eyes that demanded attention.
"They need to be informed."
His words brooked no argument, and Ned found himself unable to protest. Jon had indeed called both of his former wards to the Eyrie. Ned had meant for Ashara to accompany him, but she had chosen to stay with Princess Elia until the birth of her second child. Any hope of dissuading her had died after Rhaegar's latest insult, one that made it all the more pressing that Jon and Robert learned the true depths of the prince's transgressions.
The Lord of the Eyrie and the heir of Storm's End must know that this madness would not end with Aerys, only take on a different form. Whatever lay ahead, House Stark would need its allies well-informed and well-prepared in the coming days, and loath though he was to admit it, Ned acknowledged no one else suitable for the task.
"Take Brent, Donal, and Crey," he said instead, listing off their father's best men, "And whoever else you need."
"You're the future Lord of Winterfell," Brandon remarked, though his brother needed no reminder. "Do not discount your own safety."
"I'll manage," Ned insisted, leaving no room for discussion as he set his goblet aside and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Look after them, Brandon. And keep yourself safe."
The Northern Blade nodded, and nothing more was said.
TBC
Chapter Summary:
Nothing to see here. Move along.
Author's Note:
Wrapping up the Harrenhal arc. We're skipping over the joust because for three reasons:
That's a lot of work The Stark children (and focus of this arc) aren't participating, so what's the point? Refer to reason #1
In all seriousness, I challenged myself to see how much trouble I could stir up in ~1K words.
I don't see any of the ripples made by the Fairchilds so far changing the outcome of the melee or Rhaegar's actions thereafter (Brandon and Ned's actions would likely have deterred most men, but Targaryens are a certain type of special).
What I can see changing is Lyanna's response to Rhaegar's actions. I want to remain faithful to what little we know from canon, that she is audacious and willful, but a lot has happened in Winterfell over the past five-odd years.
"Lyanna had wanted to jump from her chair, fling a bread roll at Lord Baratheon, and storm out of the Great Hall. But Lady Evetta had taught her that being loud was not the same as being brave and that shouting was not the same as being heard." - Better Days, Part 3 of 3
I wanted to echo back to the above quote from the 'Better Days' arc, reinforcing the notion that actions do not need to be bombastic or even violent to be immensely profound. I'd wager there are few things more profound than a public rejection of the crown prince.
Meanwhile, Aeyrs is having himself a grand old time.
Note: As Knightstar asked, there is no Knight of the Laughing Tree in this story. After Brandon puts Arthur in the dirt only to 'lose' his inheritance, everyone assumes he's in 'give me a reason' mode and everyone is giving the Northerners some distance. So Howland Reeds hasn't entered Ned's circle just yet.
As always, many thanks to KnightStar for his edits, feedback, and support.