Chapter Text
It was the song of a bird that woke her from her slumber. She felt cold and wet as she dragged herself back to her feet and took a glance at the weirwood tree. The trees' leaves were bright and red, the bark pale white and sad, tears of crimson slithering down the trunk.
The face was an ugly one, but it was familiar and had given her comfort as she had tried to process her father’s decision.
„You are to be married to Lord Robert, the Lord of Storm’s End. He is a worthy man, strong, gallant, and a Lord Paramount. He shall be a good husband to you.“
She had protested, but her father had been firm in this matter.
„You have no choice, daughter. It is your duty to marry Robert.“
His words had been so hard and final, unshakable like the ice-crusted ground beneath her feet.
Unable to stand the presence of her father any longer, she had retreated to her chamber.
There she had changed into her riding clothes and then she had chased her horse through the Wolfswood.
The wild chase had helped to ease the sorrow in her heart, but her sorrow had soon been replaced with blazing fury.
How could her father do this to her?
He himself had wed her mother for love, though he had nothing to gain from that match.
As for Robert Baratheon, she barely knew him and had only seen him once, when she had visited Ned in the Eyrie barely a year ago.
He had been kind enough and Ned seemed to like him, but on Lyanna he had left no great impression.
He was a lot like Bran, loud and always demanding everyone's attention, almost like a little toddler who could never be cuddled enough.
When he had supposedly fallen in love with her she couldn’t fantom.
She had been a girl of barely elven summers…
This conclusion had been reached by her mind when she found her hidden place in the Wolfwood.
It was there where she hid her practice blades, lances, shields, and other equipment she and Benjen used to train.
For that was what Lyanna had always wanted to do: to be a brave knight, to save maidens, and to defeat her enemies.
Yet, she knew her future life would be so much different than that of a knight. She would have to endure Robert Baratheon’s coupling, she would have to bear his children, embroider his clothing, and grow fat and bored while he goes on to fuck his servant maids, or at least that was what she imagined when she recalled how she had found him on the night before their departure, ramming himself into the naked backside of a young servant girl.
He must have been horribly drunk, for he had not seen her, but she knew that his seed had taken root in that girl. Mya Stone was the girl’s name, one among a good dozen she believed.
The very thought sickened her. Not so much that her husband would fuck some other girls, but that she would be trapped in Storm’s End for the rest of her days.
No, that was not the kind of life she wanted. That was not what the gods had intended for her.
„Isn’t that so?“ she asked the weirwood tree, who continued to weep crimson tears. „Please answer me!“
Yet, all she heard was the whispering of the leaves and the sound of footsteps on the ground.
As she turned, she found her brother Ned looking down at her. In his time away in the Vale with Lord Arryn, her brother had grown into a man, but he still looked a little uncomfortable with his gained height.
„What do you want, Ned?“ she asked and looked away, her gaze darting to her horse Stormchaser. She had bound it to a nearby tree and by the looks of it, it was freezing. „I am sure you already heard of father’s wishes.“
He eyed her with a steely gaze, calm and distant. Ned had always been quiet, so contrary to her and Bran’s nature.
„Robert will be a good husband to you. He promised he loved you more than anything.“
Lyanna sighed and shook her head in disbelief. „You always speak so highly of him, brother, but yet he has a bastard, no? So much for his love, Ned.“
Ned looked slightly uncomfortable by her knowledge, but was quick to jump to his friend’s defense.
„He has his mistakes, but he will change…for you. He will love you dearly.“
Lyanna sighed. Ned was a good man, but he knew nothing of the world or of love.
„Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature,“ she replied sadly and left her brother standing there.
She had been so happy to see him again, but now, whenever she looked at him, she felt he was a stranger to her.
Their interaction had also made up her mind.
There would be no marriage, regardless of her father’s wishes. She would not throw away her life for duty.
There was no happiness to be gained from it.
She would find her own path.
…
She waited until Ned had departed and went about her business as usual, but in the meantime, she hid away rations and picked some of her mother’s old jewels from her hidden box.
She was only twelve. Her breasts could still be bound and her voice was soft as if it belonged to a young boy before the edge of manhood. She could still be a squire, a page, or perhaps even a knight.
It sounded so easy in her head, but when the day came, she felt incredibly sad. Winterfell had been her home and she would miss its strong walls, the grey towers, and the snow-covered walls. Most of all she would miss the godswood and the smell of fresh-fallen leaves, but that couldn’t be helped.
Even young birds had to leave behind their nest, though she was a wolf.
That made her think of something her mother had once said.
In winter, the lone wolf dies and the pack survives.
It had sounded so wise coming from her lady mother’s lips, but then she had known love by the man she had married and had received nothing but respect in return.
Lyanna would not have the same. No, she doubted her Lady Mother would have agreed to the match.
She would have defended her.
She would have been able to change her father’s heart, alas that was far away now, as she had perished six years ago, crushed by her horse.
Lyanna brushed these thoughts away, before continuing her journey south.
It was near Cerwyn that she changed her riding garments into a simpler garb: old breeches, boots, a furred cloak, and a smelly shawl. The clothing was old and worn out, but that was on purpose. No one was supposed to see Lyanna Stark in a commoner’s clothing.
Well, that was only the beginning of preparing her mummery. She grabbed her long braid of hair with tears in her eyes, as she brought the blade to her locks and cut them off with a good dozen of quick sweeps of her blade.
Her lady mother had always asked her to grow it out. It had been her happiest memory to have here there, brushing it out or better said trying to tame it as her mother would have jested.
Yet, that was her past and future was awaiting her there beyond the Neck, far away from her father’s stiffening duty, Brandon’s possessive protection, Benjen’s sweet laughter, and Ned’s honor.
She would be a lone wolf, but she believed she would be happier for it.
It took her two more week turns, to reach the Neck and with luck, she had been able to evade any patrols by riding during the night and sleeping during the day.
The result of her actions was that she smelled as if she had been sleeping in a pig stall, but at least her stomach was never empty.
Still, she was relieved when she was finally able to leave the Neck behind her and she got a view of the green lands beyond.
The Riverlands proved even greener than she had anticipated. And the sky was so very blue and bright.
As she passed towns, holdfasts, and hamlets, she could not believe how high the wheat was growing in these lands and how fruitful the soil was.
No wonder her father was so adamant about seeing Bran wed to Lord Tully’s daughter. A harvest like that could feed the North for years to come.
It also made her wonder if Lord Robert had offered her father coin or harvests for her? It was not uncommon, but the thought made her uncomfortable.
No, she told herself and nudged her horse into a quick gallop. Ned’s friend will be happier for it. No southron lord would be able to abide by a woman like me.
It was close to the Trident when days of constant rain forced her to take shelter among the trees. She could not ride far, especially when thunder was rolling in the distance. On the third day, the rain finally eased and she continued her travel along the muddy road that led her to an Inn, where all traders, peddlers, and travelers seemed to assemble.
The Inn at the Crossroad was called and it was the warmest place she had visited since leaving her home.
It was also crowded and the Inn was not as the one’s in the North. No, it was three stories tall, with turrets made of white stone and blue tile, and accompanied by its own stable and bell tower.
She dismounted near the entrance and led her horse to the stables, her hand always clutching the precious belongings of her mother and the little coin she had kept.
She also straightened herself in her saddle to appear more like a boy than some frightened girl.
There at the stable, a strongly-built lad greeted her, his dark eyes eying her curiously. He told her how much it would cost and she gave him the coin, before entering the inn.
Inside, it was not as packed as she had thought, but the smell of warm broth was tempting. She asked the Lady who owned that inn for a meal and a warm place to sleep.
„You will have to share your bed with some others, lad,“ the lady told her and pointed at the staircase that was obviously leading to the upper chambers. „But you will get a fine meal and feel warm.“
Lyanna did not like the prospect of sharing a chamber with strangers, but then she was no longer a highborn girl, but a lad of twelve summers.“
„I thank you, my lady,“ he thanked the lady and received a shake of the head.
The chamber was large enough and clean as well, but sparsely furnished. The men she was sharing it with were not as scary-looking as she had feared.
There were three of them. One was seated at a table near the entrance, a candle burning bright as he was moving his feather over a piece of parchment.
The second man had been watching the man, but his head had snapped up faster than a whip when he saw her, his dark violet eyes wide in surprise and his hand resting on the pommel of his blade.
As for the third man, he was snoring softly, only a fuss of blond hair visible from the distance.
„Who are you?“ the man in the sitting position asked her and cocked his head. „Did Mistress Masha sent you to enquire about our wants?“
Lyanna was a bit tongue-tied by the sudden focus on her, especially because the man with the blade was eying her like a hawk.
„I ask you again, lad. What do you want?“
The man in the sitting position had spoken again and was searching her face. Lyanna could only stare back at him in silence.
It felt as if her tongue was in knots.
The man was quite young, no older than her brother Brandon or at least that was what she believed. His face was handsome and even-shaped, but his unnatural dark hair did not fit his pale skin. It made him look a little on the sickly side, especially in contrast to his dark indigo eyes.
The man with the sword was a few years older, but his hair was very fair. He looked like a Targaryen or perhaps like a Lysean..she had seen those in White Harbour once when she had gone there to attend a wedding feast.
What was sure: these men were armed and knew how to defend themselves. They also didn’t like that she had intruded on their private business.
„Lad,“ the violet-eyed knight demanded in a louder tone. „My lord has asked you a question.“
It was then, that Lyanna had finally regained her speech and bowed her head in reverence.
„Forgive me, my lord. The Mistress told me to sleep here.“
The violet-eyed man and the other man exchanged a strange glance.
„I see. Well, you can sleep over there…next to Myles, but don’t bother us…we have business to attend to and no time to waste on some lad.“
Lyanna did what was asked of her and settled down on the carpet beside the hearth. Her furs were cuddly enough, but even as she lay rolled up with her knees to her chest and exhausted from her long travel, she could not sleep.
Their whispering echoed in their ears.
„We must go back quickly…“
„I suppose so,“ the other man replied. „It seems my mother has finally found a bride from me. The Dornish Princess. What was her name again?“
The man had sounded so disinterested as he had said this, almost as if he was speaking of a future trade agreement.
„She is called Elia.“
„Elia,“ the other man muttered to himself. „How old is she?“
„Slightly older than you,“ the other man replied. „And pretty and witty.“
„That’s good…that she is older. My mother had her first babe at thirteen summers…that will make it easier for her to have my children.“
„You don’t sound very enthusiastic, old friend,“ the other man replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. „Would you rather prefer to join the Kingsguard like me?“
„You know that’s not possible,“ he replied with a sigh. „I am only doing this because it needs to be done. I almost pity the lady…her mother is not doing her any favors to sent her to court, but I guess the Princess has not lost her ambitions.“
The other man chuckled. „Well, she certainly didn’t hesitate to ruin Tywin’s dreams.“
„Do not remind me,“ the other man replied. „And now let us rest.“
Lyanna had been half-asleep as she had listened to their talk, but what they had said had confirmed to her that these were not common men.
These were high-born lords.
And one of them was in the Kingsguard.
Thus, come the morning, she watched them more closely. Especially, the one with the fair hair.
She knew the names of each member of the Kingsguard and she also knew that a man like that would only travel with a member of the royal family.
„Could the one with the strange hair be the Prince?“ she wondered as she tip-toeing out of the chamber to make water.
Upon her return, she found the pale-haired man searching through her belongings.
„What at are you doing there?“ she asked the man, who laughed in amusement at her threat.
The blond one was also awake, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy expression.
“You have quite the treasure there, my lad?“ he asked and eyed her more closely. „Who are you? Some run-away lordling?“
Lyanna tried to keep her composure and kept her gaze fixed on her boots. „I am just a bastard…but I want to be a knight. I thought…,“ he began, but the other man cut her off.
His voice was like rich iron, strong and calm at the same time, but his dark indigo eyes were filled with amusement.
„You thought you could buy yourself a position?“
Lyanna knew there was no other possible answer.
„That was my plan.“
The man with the strange hair turned his head back at his friend and started to laugh.
„I think today is your lucky day, Arthur. You have need of a page, don’t you?“
Arthur. The name rang a bell.
Her heart nearly skipped a beat. „Are you the Arthur Dayne?“
The pale-haired man grimaced. „I am the very one, my lad, though this was supposed to be a secret.“
„I am sorry,“ she replied quickly, her gaze darting to his sword. „I didn’t mean to pry.“
„And yet you are prying, lad,“ Ser Arthur replied in a grumbling tone.
„Oh, come on, Arthur. The boy wants to be a hero. Can you deny him that?“
Arthur sighed and looked back at Lyanna. „How old are you, lad?“
Lyanna bit her lips and decided to lie. „Ten and three.“
„You look much younger…and you sound much younger,“ Ser Arthur grumbled. „I will have no lies.“
„I am ten and twelve,“ she finally admitted. „And I can ride and fight well.“
Ser Arthur bit his lips and looked back at his Lord and Prince.
He was still smiling. At last, he exhaled deeply and nodded his head in agreement.
„Very well, my boy. You can stay, but I won’t have any complaints from you.“
…